THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Peter  Scott 


THE   NOVELS    AND    ROMANCES 

OF 

EDWARD    BULWER   LYTTON 

(LORD    LYTTON) 


i^antip  Hibrarp  €tiition 


LAST   OF   THE    BARONS 

VOLUME    TWO 


■  ■ 


"Look,  look,  Sibyll  !  "  he  said,  pointing  to  Hastings. 
The  Last  of  the  Barons, 


Aw//  d 

THE  NOVELL   , 
AND  •  ROMANCES 

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EDWftRD  •  BULWER 
LYTTON 

<  LORD  LYTTON  ) 

LAST    OF   THE 
BARONS 

VOLUME  TWO 

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BOSTON 

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Copyright,  1893,  1894,  1898, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


Al 

THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAEONS. 


BOOK  VII. 


THE    POPULAR    REBELLION. 


CHAPTER   I. 

The  White  Lion  of  March  shakes  his  Mane. 

"  Axd  what  news  1  "  asked  Hastings,  as  he  found  him- 
self amidst  the  king's  squires;  while  yet  was  heard  the 
laugh  of  the  tymhesteres,  and  yet,  gliding  through  the 
trees,  might  be  seen  the  retreating  form  of  Sibyll. 

"  My  lord,  the  king  needs  you  instantly.  A  courier 
has  just  arrived  from  the  North.  The  Lords  St.  John, 
Rivers,  De  Eulke,  and  Scales,  are  already  with  his 
Highness. " 

"  Where  1  " 

"  In  the  great  council-chamber." 

To  that  memorable  room,1  in  the  White  Tower,  in 
which  the  visitor,  on  entrance,  is  first  reminded  of  the 
name  and  fate  of  Hastings,  strode  the  unprophetic  lord. 

He  found  Edward  not  reclining  on  cushions  and 
carpets;    not  womanlike   in  loose  robes,  —  not  with   his 

1  It  was  from  this  room  that  Hastings  was  hurried  to  execution, 
June  13,  1483. 

VOL.  II.  —  1 


2  THE    LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

lazy  smile  upon  his  sleek  beauty.  The  king  had  doffed 
his  gown,  and  stood  erect  in  the  tight  tunic,  which 
gave  in  full  perfection  the  splendid  proportions  of  a 
frame  unsurpassed  in  activity  and  strength.  Before 
him,  on  the  long  table,  lay  two  or  three  open  letters, — 
beside  the  dagger  with  which  Edward  had  cut  the  silk 
that  bound  them.  Around  him  gravely  sat  Lord  Rivers, 
Anthony  Woodville,  Lord  St.  John,  Raoul  de  Fulke,  the 
young  and  valiant  D'Eyncourt,  and  many  other  of  the 
principal  lords.  Hastings  saw  at  once  that  something  of 
pith  and  moment  had  occurred;  and  by  the  fire  in  the 
king's  eye,  the  dilation  of  his  nostril,  the  cheerful  and 
almost  joyous  pride  of  his  mien  and  brow,  the  experienced 
courtier  reads  the  signs  of  War. 

"  Welcome,  brave  Hastings,"  said  Edward,  in  a  voice 
wholly  changed  from  its  wonted  soft  affectation, —  loud, 
clear,  and  thrilling  as  it  went  through  the  marrow  and 
heart  of  all  who  heard  its  stirring  and  trumpet  accent, 
— "  welcome  now  to  the  field  as  ever  to  the  banquet! 
We  have  news  from  the  North,  that  bid  us  brace  on 
the  burgonet,  and  buckle-to  the  brand,  —  a  revolt  that 
requires  a  king's  arm  to  quell.  In  Yorkshire,  fifteen 
thousand  men  are  in  arms,  under  a  leader  they  call 
Robin  of  Redesdale:  the  pretext,  a  thrave  of  corn 
demanded  by  the  Hospital  of  St.  Leonard's, —  the  true 
design  that  of  treason  to  our  realm.  At  the  same  time, 
we  hear  from  our  brother  of  Gloucester,  now  on  the 
border,  that  the  Scotch  have  lifted  the  Lancaster  Rose. 
There  is  peril  if  these  two  armies  meet ;  —  no  time  to  lose : 
liny  are  saddling  our  war-steeds, —  we  hasten  to  the  van 
of  our  royal  force.  We  shall  have  warm  work,  my  lords. 
But  who  is  worthy  of  a  throne  that  cannot  guard  it!  " 

"  This  is  sad  tidings  indeed,  sire, "  said  Hastings, 
gravely. 


THE    LAST   OF   THE   BAEONS.  3 

"Sad!  Say  it  not,  Hastings!  War  is  the  chase  of 
kings !  Sir  Raoul  de  Fulke !  —  why  lookest  thou 
brooding   and    sorrowful  1  " 

"  Sire,  I  but  thought  that  had  Earl  Warwick  been 
in  England,  this  —  " 

"Ha!"  interrupted  Edward,  haughtily  and  hastily, — 
"  and  is  Warwick  the  sun  of  heaven  that  no  cloud  can 
darken  where  his  face  may  shine1?  The  rebels  shall 
need  no  foe,  my  realm  no  regent,  while  I,  the  heir  of 
the  Plantagenets,  have  the  sword  for  one,  the  sceptre 
for  the  other.  We  depart  this  evening  ere  the  sun  be 
set." 

"My  liege,"  said  the  Lord  St.  John,  gravely,  —  "on 
what  forces  do  you  count  to  meet  so  formidable  an 
array  1  " 

"  All  England,  Lord  of  St.  John!  " 

"  Alack !  my  liege,  may  you  not  deceive  yourself ! 
But  in  this  crisis,  it  is  right  that  your  leal  and  trusty 
subjects  should  speak  out,  and  plainly.  It  seems  that 
these  insurgents  clamor  not  against  yourself,  but  against 
the  queen's  relations,  —  yes,  my  Lord  Rivers,  against 
you  and  your  house,  and  I  fear  me  that  the  hearts  of 
England  are  with  them  here." 

"It  is  true,  sire,"  put  in  Raoul  de  Eulke,  boldly, — 
"  and  if  these  new  men  are  to  head  your  armies,  the 
Avarriors  of  Touton  will  stand  aloof :  Raoul  de  Fulke 
serves  no  Woodville's  banner.  Frown  not,  Lord  de 
Scales!  it  is  the  griping  avarice  of  you  and  yours  that 
has  brought  this  evil  on  the  king.  For  you  the  com- 
mons have  been  pillaged, —  for  you  the  daughters  of  our 
peers  have  been  forced  into  monstrous  marriages,  at 
war  with  birth  and  with  nature  herself.  For  you,  the 
princely  Warwick,  near  to  the  throne  in  blood,  and 
front  and   pillar  of  our  time-honored  order  of    seigneur 


4  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

and  of  knight,  has  heen  thrust  from  our  suzerain's 
favor.  And  if  now  ye  are  to  march  at  the  van  of 
war,  —  you  to  be  avengers  of  the  strife  of  which  ye  are 
the  cause, —  I  say  that  the  soldiers  will  lack  heart,  and 
the  provinces  ye  pass  through  will  be  the  country  of  a 
foe !  " 

"  Vain  man !  "  began  Anthony  Woodville,  when 
Hastings  laid  his  hand  on  his  arm,  while  Edward, 
amazed  at  this  outburst  from  two  of  the  supporters  on 
whom  he  principally  counted,  had  the  prudence  to  sup- 
press his  resentment,  and  remained  silent,  but  with 
the  aspect  of  one  resolved  to  command  obedience,  when 
he  once  deemed  it  ri<dit  to  interfere. 

"  Hold,  Sir  Anthony  !  "  said  Hastings,  who,  the  moment 
he  found  himself  with  men,  woke  to  all  the  manly 
spirit  and  profound  wisdom  that  had  rendered  his  name 
illustrious, —  "hold,  and  let  me  have  the  word:  my 
Lords  St.  John  and  De  Fulke,  your  charges  are  more 
against  me  than  against  these  gentlemen,  for  7"  am  a 
new  man,  —  a  squire  by  birth, —  and  proud  to  derive 
mine  honors  from  the  same  origin  as  all  true  nobility :  I 
mean  the  grace  of  a  noble  liege,  and  the  happy  fortune 
of  a  soldier's  sword.  It  may  be, "  (and  here  the  artful 
favorite,  the  most  beloved  of  the  whole  court,  inclined 
himself  meekly)  — "  it  may  be  that  I  have  not  borne 
those  honors  so  mildly  as  to  disarm  blame.  In  the 
war  to  be,  let  me  atone.  My  liege,  hear  your  servant: 
give  me  no  command, —  let  me  be  a  simple  soldier,  fight- 
ing by  your  side.  My  example  who  will  not  follow  1  — 
proud  to  ride  hut  as  a  man  of  arms  along  the  track 
which  the  sword  of  his  sovereign  shall  cut  through  the 
ranks  of  battle?  Not  you,  Lord  de  Scales,  redoubtable 
and  invincible  with  lance  and  axe:  let  us  new  men 
soothe  envy  by  our  deeds;  and  you,  Lord  St.  John  and 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  5 

De  Fulke, —  you  shall  teach  us  how  your  fathers  led 
warriors  who  did  not  fight  more  gallantly  than  we  will. 
And  when  rebellion  is  at  rest, —  when  we  meet  again 
in  our  suzerain's  hall,  —  accuse  us  new  men,  if  you 
can  find  us  faulty,  and  we  will  answer  you  as  we  best 
may  ?  " 

This  address,  which  could  have  come  from  no  man 
with  such  effect  as  from  Hastings,  touched  all  present; 
and  though  the  Woodvilles,  father  and  son,  saw  in  it 
much  to  gall  their  pride,  and  half  believed  it  a  snare 
for  their  humiliation,  they  made  no  opposition.  Raoul 
de  Fulke,  ever  generous  as  fiery,  stretched  forth  his 
hand,    and  said, — 

"  Lord  Hastings,  you  have  spoken  well.  Be  it  as  the 
king  wills." 

"  My  lords, "  returned  Edward,  gayly,  "  my  will  is  that 
ye  be  friends  while  a  foe  is  in  the  field.  Hasten,  then, 
I  beseech  you,  one  and  all,  to  raise  your  vassals,  and 
join  our  standard  at  Fotheringay.  I  will  find  ye  posts 
that  shall  content  the  bravest. " 

The  king  made  a  sign  to  break  up  the  conference,  and 
dismissing  even  the  Woodvilles,  was  left  alone  with 
Hastings. 

"  Thou  hast  served  me  at  need,  Will, "  said  the  king. 
"  But  I  shall  remember  "  (and  his  eye  flashed  a  tiger's 
fire)  "  the  mouthing  of  those  mock-pieces  of  the  lords  at 
Runnymede.  I  am  no  John,  to  be  bearded  by  my  vas- 
sals. Enough  of  them  now.  Think  you  Warwick  can 
have  abetted  this  revolt  1  " 

"  A  revolt  of  peasants  and  yeomen  !  No,  sire.  If 
he  did  so,  farewell  forever  to  the  love  the  barons  bear 
him. " 

"  Um !  and  yet  Montagu,  whom  I  dismissed  ten  days 
since  to  the  Borders,  hearing  of  disaffection,  hath  done 


6  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAROXS. 

nought  to  check  it.  But  come  what  may,  his  must  be 
a  bold  lance  that  shivers  against  a  king's  mail.  And 
now  one  kiss  of  my  Lady  Bessee,  one  cup  of  the  bright 
canary,  and  then  God  and  St.  George  for  the  White 
Bose!  " 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    BARONS. 


CHAPTER   II. 

The  Camp  at  Obiey. 

It  was  some  weeks  after  the  citizens  of  London  had  seen 
their  gallant  king,  at  the  head  of  such  forces  as  were 
collected  in  haste,  in  the  metropolis,  depart  from  their 
walls  to  the  encounter  of  the  rebels.  Surprising  and 
disastrous  had  been  the  tidings  in  the  interim.  At  first, 
indeed,  there  were  hopes  that  the  insurrection  had  been 
put  down  by  Montagu,  who  had  defeated  the  troops  of 
Robin  of  Redesdale,  near  the  city  of  York,  and  was 
said  to  have  beheaded  their  leader.  But  the  spirit  of 
discontent  was  only  fanned  by  an  adverse  wind.  The 
popular  hatred  to  the  Woodvilles  was  so  great,  that  in 
proportion  as  Edward  advanced  to  the  scene  of  action, 
the  country  rose  in  arms  as  Raoul  de  Fulke  had  pre- 
dicted. Leaders  of  lordly  birth  now  headed  the  rebel- 
lion: the  sons  of  the  Lords  Latimer  and  Fitzhugh  (near 
kinsmen  of  the  House  of  Nevile)  lent  their  names  to 
the  cause ;  and  Sir  John  Coniers,  an  experienced  sol- 
dier, whose  claims  had  been  disregarded  by  Edward, 
gave  to  the  insurgents  the  aid  of  a  formidable  capacity 
for  war.  In  every  mouth  was  the  story  of  the  Duchess 
of  Bedford's  witchcraft;  and  the  waxen  figure  of  the 
earl  did  more  to  rouse  the  people,  than  perhaps  the 
earl  himself  could  have  done  in  person.1     As  yet,  how- 

1  See  "  Parliamentary  Rolls,"  vi.  232,  for  the  accusations  of 
witchcraft,  and  the  fabrication  of  a  necromantic  image  of  Lord 
Warwick,  circulated  against  the  Duchess  of  Bedford.  She  herself 
quotes  and  complains  of  them. 


8  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

ever,  the  language  of  the  insurgents  was  tempered  with 
all  personal  respect  to  the  king;  they  declared  in  their 
manifestoes  that  they  desired  only  the  banishment  of 
the  Woodvilles,  and  the  recall  of  Warwick,  whose  name 
they  used  unscrupulously,  and  whom  they  declared  they 
were  on  their  way  to  meet.  As  soon  as  it  was  known 
that  the  kinsmen  of  the  beloved  earl  were  in  the  revolt, 
and  naturally  supposed  that  the  earl  himself  must  coun- 
tenance the  enterprise,  the  tumultuous  camp  swelled 
every  hour,  while  knight  after  knight,  veteran  after 
veteran,  abandoned  the  royal  standard.  The  Lord 
d'Eyncourt  (one  of  the  few  lords  of  the  highest  birth 
and  greatest  following,  over  whom  the  ISTeviles  had  no 
influence,  and  who  bore  the  Woodvilles  no  grudge)  had, 
on  his  way  to  Lincolnshire,  where  his  personal  aid 
was  necessary  to  rouse  his  vassals,  infected  by  the  com- 
mon sedition,  —  been  attacked  and  wounded  by  a  body 
of  marauders,  and  thus  Edward's  camp  lost  one  of  its 
greatest  leaders.  Fierce  dispute  broke  out  in  the  king's 
councils;  and,  when  the  witch  Jacquetta's  practices 
against  the  earl  travelled  from  the  hostile  into  the  royal 
camp,  E-aoul  de  Fulke,  St.  John,  and  others,  seized  with 
pious  horror,  positively  declared  they  would  throw  down 
their  arms  and  retire  to  their  castles,  unless  the  Wood- 
villes were  dismissed  from  the  camp,  and  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  was  recalled  to  England.  To  the  first  demand 
the  king  was  constrained  to  yield;  with  the  second  he 
temporized.  He  marched  from  Fotheringay  to  Newark; 
but  the  signs  of  disaffection,  though  they  could  not 
dismay  him  as  a  soldier,  altered  his  plans  as  a  captain  of 
singular  military  acuteness;  he  fell  back  on  Notting- 
ham, and  despatched,  with  his  own  hands,  letters  to 
Clarence,  the  Archbishop  of  York,  and  Warwick.  To 
the   last   he   wrote   touchingly.      "  We  do  not  believe, " 


THE    LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  9 

said  the  letter,  "  that  ye  should  be  of  any  such  disposi- 
tion towards  us,  as  the  rumor  here  runneth,  consider- 
ing the  trust  and  affection  we  bear  you, —  and,  cousin, 
we  think  ye  shall  be  to  us  welcome.'51  But  ere  these 
letters  reached  the  destination,  the  crown  seemed  well- 
nigh  lost.  At  Edgecote,  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  was 
defeated  and  slain,  and  five  thousand  royalists  were  left 
on  the  field.  Earl  Rivers,  and  his  son,  Sir  John  Wood- 
ville,2  who,  in  obedience  to  the  royal  order,  had  retired 
to  the  earl's  country-seat  of  Grafton,  were  taken  pris- 
oners, and  beheaded  by  the  vengeance  of  the  insurgents. 
The  same  lamentable  fate  befell  the  Lord  Stafford,  on 
whom  Edward  relied  as  one  of  his  most  puissant  leaders; 
and  London  heard  with  dismay  that  the  king,  with  but 
a  handful  of  troops,  and  those  lukewarm  and  disaffected, 
was  begirt  on  all  sides  by  hostile  and  marching  thou- 
sands. 

From  Nottingham,  however,  Edward  made  good  his 
retreat  to  a  village  called  Olney,  which  chanced  at  that 
time  to  be  partially  fortified  with  a  wall  and  a  strong 
gate.  Here  the  rebels  pursued  him ;  and  Edward,  hear- 
ing that  Sir  Anthony  Woodville,  who  conceived  that  the 
fate  of   his  father  and  brother  cancelled  all  motive  for 

9 

1  "  Paston  Letters,"  ccxcviii.  (Knight's  edition),  vol.  ii.  p.  59. 
See  also  "  Lingard,"  vol.  iii.  p.  522  (4to  edition)  note  43,  for  the 
proper  date  to  be  assigned  to  Edward's  letter  to  Warwick,  etc. 

2  This  Sir  John  Woodville  was  the  most  obnoxious  of  the 
queen's  brothers,  and  infamous  for  the  avarice  which  had  led  him 
to  marry  the  old  Duchess  of  Norfolk,  an  act  which,  according  to 
the  old  laws  of  chivalry,  would  have  disabled  him  from  entering 
the  lists  of  knighthood,  for  the  ancient  code  disqualified  and  de- 
graded any  knight  who  should  marry  an  old  woman  for  her 
money !  Lord  Rivers  was  the  more  odious  to  the  people  at  the 
time  of  the  insurrection,  because,  in  his  capacity  of  treasurer,  he 
had  lately  tampered  with  the  coin  and  circulation. 


10  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAIIONS. 

longer  absence  from  the  contest,  "was  busy  in  collecting 
a  force  in  the  neighborhood  of  Coventry,  while  other 
assistance  might  be  daily  expected  from  London,  strength- 
ened the  fortifications  as  well  as  the  time  would  permit, 
and  awaited  the  assault  of  the  insurgents. 

It  was  at  this  crisis,  and  while  throughout  all  England 
reigned  terror  and  commotion,  that  one  day,  towards  the 
end  of  July,  a  small  troop  of  horsemen  were  seen  riding 
rapidly  towards  the  neighborhood  of  Gluey.  As  the 
village  came  in  view  of  the  cavalcade,  with  the  spire  of 
its  church,  and  its  gray  stone  gateway,  so  also  they 
beheld,  on  the  pastures  that  stretched  around,  wide  and 
far,  a  moving  forest  of  pikes  and  plumes. 

"  Holy  Mother !  "  said  one  of  the  foremost  riders. 
"  Good  knight  and  strong  man  though  Edward  be,  it 
were  sharp  work  to  cut  his  way  from  that  hamlet  through 
yonder  fields !  Brother,  we  were  more  welcome  had  we 
brought  more  bills  and  bows  at  our  backs !  " 

"  Archbishop, "  answered  the  stately  personage  thus 
addressed,  "  we  bring  what  alone  raises  armies  and  dis- 
bands them,  —  a  name  that  a  People  honors!  From 
the  moment  the  white  bear  is  seen  on  yonder  archway, 
side  by  side  with  the  king's  banner, —  that  army  will 
vanish  as  smoke  before  the  wind." 

"  Heaven  grant  it,  Warwick !  "  said  the  Duke  of 
Clarence ;  "  for,  though  Edward  hath  used  us  sorely,  it 
chafes  me  as  Plantagenet  and  as  prince,  to  see  how 
peasants  and  varlets  can  hem  round  a  king." 

"  Peasants  and  varlets  are  pawns  on  the  chess-board, 
cousin  George, "  said  the  prelate,  "  and  knight  and 
bishop  find  them  mighty  useful,  when  pushing  forward 
to  an  attack.  Now  knight  and  bishop  appear  them- 
selves and  take  up  the  game,  —  Warwick,"  added  the 
prelate,    in    a   whisper,    unheard    by    Clarence,    "  forget 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAKONS.  11 

not,  while  appeasing  rebellion,  that  the  king  is  in  your 
power." 

"  For  shame,  George  !  I  think  not  now  of  the 
unkind  king;  I  think  only  of  the  brave  boy  I  dandled 
on  my  knee,  and  whose  sword  I  girded  on  at  Touton. 
How  his  lion  heart  must  chafe,  condemned  to  see  a  foe 
whom  his  skill  as  captain  tells  him  it  were  madness  to 
confront !  " 

"Ay,  Richard  Nevile  !  —  ay,"  said  the  prelate,  with  a 
slight  sneer,  "  play  the  Paladin,  and  become  the  dupe, — 
release  the  prince,  and  betray  the  people  !  " 

"  No !  I  can  be  true  to  both.  Tush !  brother,  your 
craft  is  slight  to  the  plain  wisdom  of  bold  honesty. 
You  slacken  your  steeds,  sirs,  on,  on,  —  see,  the  march 
of  the  rebels !  On,  for  an  Edward  and  a  Warwick  !  " 
and  spurring  to  full  speed,  the  little  company  arrived 
at  the  gates.  The  loud  bugle  of  the  new  comers  was 
answered  by  the  cheerful  note  of  the  joyous  warder, — 
while  dark,  slow,  and  solemn,  over  the  meadows,  crept 
on  the  mighty  cloud  of  the  rebel  army. 

"  We  have  forestalled  the  insurgents !  "  said  the  earl, 
throwing  himself  from  his  black  steed.  "  Marmaduke 
Nevile,  advance  our  banner ;  heralds,  announce  the  Duke 
of  Clarence,  the  Archbishop  of  York,  and  the  Earl  of 
Salisbury  and  Warwick." 

Through  the  anxious  town,  along  the  crowded  walls 
and  housetops,  into  the  hall  of  an  old  mansion  (that  then 
adjoined  the  church),  where  the  king,  in  complete  armor, 
stood  at  bay,  with  stubborn  and  disaffected  officers, 
rolled  the  thunder  cry,  "  A  Warwick,  —  a  Warwick  !  all 
saved  !  a  Warwick  !  " 

Sharply,  as  he  heard  the  clamor,  the  king  turned 
upon  his  startled  council.  "  Lords  and  captains  !  "  said 
he,    with    that   inexpressible    majesty    which    he     could 


12  THE    LAST    OF   THE    BARONS. 

command  in  his  happier  hours,  "  God  and  our  Patron 
'Saint  have  sent  us  at  least  one  man  who  has  the  heart 
to  fight  fifty  times  the  odds  of  yon  miscreant  rahhle, 
by  his  king's  side,  and  for  the  honor  of  loyalty  and 
knighthood !  " 

"And  who  says,  sire,"  answered  Raoul  de  Fulke, 
"  that  we  your  lords  and  captains  would  not  risk  blood 
and  life  for  our  king  and  our  knighthood  in  a  just  cause  1 
But  we  will  not  butcher  our  countrymen  for  echoing  our 
own  complaint,  and  praying  your  Grace  that  a  grasping 
and  ambitious  family  which  you  have  raised  to  power 
may  no  longer  degrade  your  nobles  and  oppress  your 
commons.  We  shall  see  if  the  Earl  of  Warwick  blame 
us  or  approve. " 

"  And  I  answer, "  said  Edward,  loftily,  "  that  whether 
Warwick  approve  or  blame,  come  as  friend  or  foe,  I  will 
sooner  ride  alone  through  yonder  archway,  and  carve  out 
a  soldier's  grave  amongst  the  ranks  of  rebellious  war, 
than  be  the  puppet  of  my  subjects,  and  serve  their  will 
by  compulsion.  Free  am  I,  —  free  ever  will  I  be,  while 
the  crown  of  the  Plantagenet  is  mine,  to  raise  those 
whom  I  love,  to  defy  the  threats  of  those  sworn  to  obey 
me.  And  were  I  but  Earl  of  March,  instead  of  king  of 
England,  this  hall  should  have  swam  with  the  blood  of 
those  who  have  insulted  the  friends  of  my  youth,  —  the 
wife  of  my  bosom.  Off,  Hastings!  —  I  need  no  mediator 
with  my  servants.  Nor  here,  nor  anywhere  in  broad 
England,  have  I  my  equal,  and  the  king  forgives  or 
scorns  —  construe  it  as  ye  will,  my  lords  —  what  the 
simple  gentleman  would  avenge." 

It  were  in  vain  to  describe  the  sensation  that  this 
speech  produced.  There  is  ever  something  in  courage 
and  in  will  that  awes  numbers,  though  brave  themselves. 
And   what   with   the  unquestioned  valor  of  Edward,  — 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  13 

what  with  the  effect  of  his  splendid  person,  towering 
above  all  present  by  the  head,  and  moving  lightly ;  with 
each  impulse,  through  the  mass  of  a  mail  that  few  there 
could  have  borne  unsinking,  this  assertion  of  absolute 
power  in  the  midst  of  mutiny  —  an  army  marching  to 
the  gates  —  imposed  an  unwilling  reverence  and  sullen 
silence,  mixed  with  anger,  that,  while  it  chafed,  admired. 
They  who,  in  peace,  had  despised  the  voluptuous  mon- 
arch", feasting  in  his  palace,  and  reclining  on  the  lap  of 
harlot-beauty,  felt  that  in  war,  all  Mars  seemed  living  in 
his  person.  Then,  indeed,  he  was  a  king;  and  had  the 
foe,  now  darkening  the  landscape,  been  the  noblest 
chivalry  of  France,  not  a  man  there  but  had  died  for  a 
smile  from  that  haughty  lip.  But  the  barons  were  knit 
heart  in  heart  with  the  popular  outbreak,  and  to  put 
down  the  revolt  seemed  to  them  but  to  raise  the  Wood- 
villes.  The  silence  was  still  unbroken,  save  where  the 
persuasive  whisper  of  Lord  Hastings  might  be  faintly 
heard  in  remonstrance  with  the  more  powerful  or  the 
more  stubborn  of  the  chiefs,  —  when  the  tread  of  steps 
resounded  without,  and,  unarmed,  bareheaded,  the  only 
form  in  Christendom  grander  and  statelier  than  the  king's, 
strode  into  the  hall. 

Edward,  as  yet  unaware  what  course  Warwick  would 
pursue,  and  half  doubtful  whether  a  revolt  that  had 
borrowed  his  name,  and  was  led  by  his  kinsmen,  might 
not  originate  in  his  consent,  surrounded  by  those  to 
whom  the  earl  was  especially  dear,  and  aware  that  if 
Warwick  were  against  him  all  was  lost,  still  relaxed  not 
the  dignity  of  his  mien ;  and  leaning  on  his  large  two- 
handed  sword,  with  such  inward  resolves  as  brave  kings 
and  gallant  gentlemen  form,  if  the  worst  should  befall, 
he  watched  the  majestic  strides  of  his  great  kinsman,  and 
said  as  the  earl  approached,  and  the  mutinous  captains 
louted  low,  — 


14  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"  Cousin,  you  are  welcome  !  for  truly  do  I  know  that 
when  you  have  aught  whereof  to  complain,  you  take  not 
the  moment  of  danger  and  disaster.  And  whatever  has 
chanced  to  alienate  your  heart  from  me,  the  sound  of  the 
rebel's  trumpet  chases  all  difference,  and  marries  your 
faith  to  mine." 

"  Oh,  Edward,  my  king,  why  did  you  so  misjudge  me 
in  the  prosperous  hour  !  "  said  Warwick,  simply,  but  with 
affecting  earnestness;  "since  in  the  adverse  hour  you 
arede  me  well  1  " 

As  he  spoke,  he  bowed  his  head,  and,  bending  his 
knee,  kissed  the  hand  held  out  to  him. 

Edward's  face  grew  radiant,  and,  raising  the  earl,  he 
glanced  proudly  at  the  barons  who  stood  round,  surprised 
and  mute. 

'Yes,  my  lords  and  sirs,  see,  —it  is  not  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  next  to  our  royal  brethren,  the  nearest  sub- 
ject to  the  throne,  who  would  desert  me  in  the  day  of 
peril!  " 

"Nor  do  we,  sire,"  retorted  Raoul  de  Fulke;  "you 
wrong  us  before  our  mighty  comrade  if  you  so  misthink 
us.  We  will  fight  for  the  king,  but  not  for  the  queen's 
kindred ;  and  this  alone  brings  on  us  your  anger. " 

'  The  gates  shall  be  opened  to  ye.  Go !  Warwick 
and  I  are  men  enough  for  the  rabble  yonder. " 

The  earl's  quick  eye,  and  profound  experience  of  his 
time,  saw  at  once  the  dissension  and  its  causes.  Nor, 
however  generous,  was  he  willing  to  forego  the  present 
occasion  for  permanently  destroying  an  influence  which 
he  knew  hostile  to  himself  and  hurtful  to  the  realm. 
His  was  not  the  generosity  of  a  boy,  but  of  a  statesman. 
Accordingly,  as  Raoul  de  Fulke  ceased,  he  took  up  the 
word. 

"  My  liege,  we  have  yet  an  hour  good  ere  the  foe  can 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  15 

reach  the  gates.  Your  brother  and  mine  accompany  me. 
See,  they  enter!  Please  you,  a  few  minutes  to  confer 
with  them ;  and  suffer  me,  meanwhile,  to  reason  Avith 
these  noble   captains." 

Edward  paused ;  but  before  the  open  broAV  of  the  earl 
fled  whatever  suspicion  might  have  crossed  the  king's 
mind. 

"Be  it  so,  cousin:  but  remember  this,  —  to  councillors 
who  can  menace  me  with  desertion  in  such  an  hour,  I 
concede  nothing." 

Turning  hastily  away,  he  met  Clarence  and  the  prelate 
midway  in  the  hall,  threw  his  arm  caressingly  over  his 
brother's  shoulder,  and,  taking  the  archbishop  by  the 
hand,  walked  with  them  towards  the  battlements. 

"  Well,  my  friends, "  said  Warwick,  "  and  what  would 
you  of  the  king  1  " 

"  The  dismissal  of  all  the  Woodvilles,  except  the 
queen  —  the  revocation  of  the  grants  and  land  accorded 
to  them,  to  the  despoiling  the  ancient  noble  —  and,  but 
for  your  presence,  we  had  demanded  your  recall." 

"  And,  failing  these,  what  your  resolve  ?  " 

"  To  depart,  and  leave  Edward  to  his  fate.  These 
granted,  we  doubt  little  but  that  the  insurgents  will  dis- 
band. These  not  granted,  we  but  waste  our  lives  against 
a  multitude  whose  cause  we  must  approve." 

"  The  cause !  But  ye  know  not  the  real  cause, " 
answered  Warwick.  "I  know  it;  for  the  sons  of  the 
North  are  familiar  to  me,  and  their  rising  hath  deeper 
meaning  than  ye  deem.  What !  have  they  not  decoyed 
to  their  head  my  kinsmen,  the  heirs  of  Latimer  and 
Eitzhugh,  and  bold  Coniers,  whose  steel  casque  should 
have  circled  a  wiser  brain?  Have  they  not  taken  my 
name  as  their  battle-cry  1  And  do  ye  think  this  falsehood 
veils  nothing  but  the  simple  truth  of  just  complaint?  " 


16  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"Was  their  rising,  then,"  asked  St.  John,  in  evident 
surprise,  "  wholly  unauthorized  by  yon  1  " 

"  So  help  me  Heaven !  If  I  would  resort  to  arms  to 
redress  a  wrong,  think  not  that  I  myself  would  be  absent 
from  the  field?  ~No,  my  lords,  friends,  and  captains, 
—  time  presses ;  a  few  words  must  suffice  to  explain 
what,  as  yet,  may  be  dark  to  you.  I  have  letters  from 
Montagu  and  others,  which  reached  me  the  same  day  as 
the  king's,  and  which  clear  up  the  purpose  of  our  mis- 
guided countrymen.  Ye  know  well  that  ever  in  Eng- 
land, but  especially  since  the  reign  of  Edward  III., 
strange,  wild  notions  of  some  kind  of  liberty  other 
than  that  we  enjoy,  have  floated  loose  through  the 
land.  Among  the  commons,  a  half-conscious  recollec- 
tion that  the  nobles  are  a  different  race  from  them- 
selves, feeds  a  secret  rancor  and  mislike,  which,  at 
any  fair  occasion  for  riot,  shows  itself  bitter  and  ruth- 
less,—  as  in  the  outbreak  of  Cade  and  others.  And  if 
the  harvest  fail,  or  a  tax  gall,  there  are  never  wanting 
men  to  turn  the  popular  distress  to  the  ends  of  private 
ambition  or  state  design.  Such  a  man  has  been  the 
true  head  and  front  of  this  commotion." 

"  Speak  you  of  Robin  Redesdale,  now  dead  1  "  asked 
one  of  the  captains. 

"  He    is   not   dead.1     Montagu    informs   me  that  the 


*»' 


1  The  fate  of  Robin  of  "Redesdale  has  been  as  obscure  as  most  of 
the  incidents  in  this  most  perplexed  part  of  English  history. 
While  some  of  the  chroniclers  finish  his  career  according  to  the 
report  mentioned  in  the  text,  Fabyan  not  only  more  charitably 
prolongs  his  life,  but  rewards  him  with  the  king's  pardon;  and 
according  to  the  annals  of  his  ancient  and  distinguished  family 
(who  will  pardon,  we  trust,  a  license  with  one  of  their  ancestry 
equally  allowed  by  history  and  romance),  as  referred  to  in  Wot- 
ton's  "English  Baronetage."  article  "  Hilvard,"  and  which  prob- 
ably rests  upon  the  authority  of  the  life  of  Richard  III.,  in  Stowe's 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  17 

report  was  false.  He  was  defeated  off  York,  and  re- 
tired for  some  days  into  the  woods ;  but  it  is  he  who 
has  enticed  the  sons  of  Latimer  and  Fitzhugh  into  the 
revolt,  and  resigned  his  own  command  to  the  martial 
cunning  of  Sir  John  Coniers.  This  Robin  of  Redesdale 
is  no  common  man.  He  hath  had  a  clerkly  education, 
he  hath  travelled  among  the  Free  Towns  of  Italy, — 
he  hath  deep  purpose  in  all  he  doth;  and  among  his 
projects  is  the  destruction  of  the  nobles  here,  as  it  was 
whilom  effected  in  Florence,  the  depriving  us  of  all  offices 
and  posts,  with  other  changes,  wild  to  think  of  and  long 
to  name." 

"  And  we  would  have  suffered  this  man  to  triumph  !  " 
exclaimed  De  Fulke :  "  we  have  been  to  blame. " 

"  Under  fair  pretence  he  has  gathered  numbers,  and 
now  wields  an  army.  I  have  reason  to  know  that,  had 
he  succeeded  in  estranging  ye  from  Edward,  and  had 
the  king  fallen,  dead  or  alive,  into  his  hands,  his  object 
would  have  been  to  restore  Henry  of  "Windsor,  but  on 
conditions  that  would  have  left  king  and  baron  little 
more  than  pageants  in  the  state.  I  knew  this  man 
years  ago.  I  have  watched  him  since;  and,  strange 
though  it  may  seem  to  you,  he  hath  much  in  him  that 
I  admire  as  a  subject  and  should  fear  were  I  a  king. 
Brief,  thus  runs  my  counsel :  —  for  our  sake  and  the 
realm's  safety,  we  must  see  this  armed  multitude  dis- 
banded,—  that  done,  we  must  see  the  grievances  they 
with  truth  complain  of  fairly  redressed.  Think  not, 
my  lords,  I  avenge  my  own  wrongs  alone,  when  I  go 
with  you  in  your  resolve  to  banish  from  the  king's 
councils  the  baleful  influence  of  the  queen's  kin.     Till 

"  Annals,"  he  is  represented  as  still  living  in  the  reign  of  that 
king.  But  the  whole  account  of  this  famous  demagogue  in  Wot 
ton  is,  it  must  lie  owned,  full  of  historical  mistakes. 

VOL.  II. 2 


18  THE    LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

that  be  compassed,  no  peace  for  England.  As  a  leprosy, 
their  avarice  crawls  over  the  nobler  parts  of  the  state, 
and  devours  while  it  sullies.  Leave  this  to  me ;  and, 
though  we  will  redress  ourselves,  let  us  now  assist  our 
king !  " 

With  one  voice,  the  unruly  officers  clamored  their 
assent  to  all  the  earl  urged,  and  expressed  their  readi- 
ness to  sally  at  once  from  the  gates,  and  attack  the 
rebels. 

"  But, "  observed  an  old  veteran,  "  what  are  we 
amongst  so  many  1     Here  a  handful,  ■ —  there  an  army !  " 

"  Fear  not,  reverend  sir, "  answered  Warwick,  with 
an  assured  smile ;  "  is  not  this  army  in  part  gathered 
from  my  own  province  of  Yorkshire  1  Is  it  not  formed 
of  men  who  have  eaten  of  my  bread  and  drank  of  my 
cup?  Let  me  see  the  man  who  will  discharge  one 
arrow  at  the  walls  which  contain  Richard  Xevile  of 
Warwick.      Now  each  to  your  posts, —  I  to  the  king." 

Like  the  pouring  of  new  blood  into  a  decrepit  body 
seemed  the  arrival,  at  that  feeble  garrison,  of  the  Earl 
of  Warwick.  From  despair  into  the  certainty  of  tri- 
umph leaped  every  heart.  Already,  at  the  sight  of  Lis 
banner  floating  by  the  side  of  Edward's,  the  gunner 
had  repaired  to  his  bombard,  the  archer  had  taken  up 
his  bow, — the  village  itself,  before  disaffected,  poured 
all  its  scanty  popidation —  women,  and  age,  and  chil- 
dren —  to  the  Avails.  And  when  the  earl  joined  the 
king  upon  the  ramparts,  he  found  that  able  general 
sanguine  and  elated,  and  pointing  out  to  Clarence  the 
natural  defences  of  the  place.  Meanwhile  the  rebels, 
no  doubt  apprised  by  their  scouts  of  the  new  aid,  had 
already  halted  in  their  march,  and  the  dark  swarm 
might  be  seen  indistinctly  undulating,  as  bees  ere  they 
settle,  amidst  the  verdure  of  the  plain. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   B AEONS.  19 

"Well,  cousin,"  said  the  king,  "have  ye  brought 
these  Hotspurs  to  their  allegiance  ?  " 

"  Sire,  yes, "  said  Warwick,  gravely ;  "  but  we  have 
here  no  force  to  resist  yon  army." 

"  Bring  you  not  succors  1  "  said  the  king,  astonished. 
"  You  must  have  passed  through  London.  Have  you 
left  no  troops  upon  the  road  1  " 

"  I  had  no  time,  sire  ;  and  London  is  wellnigh  palsied 
with  dismay.  Had  I  waited  to  collect  troops,  I  might 
have  found  a  king's  head  blackening  over  those  gates." 

"  Well, "  returned  Edward,  carelessly,  "  few  or  many, 
one  gentleman  is  more  Avorth  than  a  hundred  varlets. 
'  We  are  eno'  for  glory, '  as  Henry  said  at  Agincourt. " 

"No,  sire;  you  are  too  skilful  and  too  wise  to  believe 
your  boast.  These  men  we  cannot  conquer,  —  we  may 
disperse  them. " 

"  By  what  spell  1  " 

"  By  their  king's  word  to  redress  their  complaints." 

"  And  banish  my  queen  ?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  man  should  part  those  whom 
God  has  joined,"  returned  Warwick.  "Not  my  lady, 
your  queen,  but  my  lady's  kindred." 

"  Bivers  is  dead,  and  gallant  John,"  said  Edward, 
sadly,  —  "is  not  that  enough  for  revenge?" 

"It  is  not  revenge  that  Ave  require,  but  pledges  for 
the  land's  safety,"  answered  Warwick.  "  And  to  be 
plain,  without  such  a  promise  these  walls  may  be  your 
tomb. " 

Edward  walked  apart,  strongly  debating  within  him- 
self. In  his  character  were  great  contrasts:  no  man  was 
more  frank  in  common,  —  no  man  more  false  when  it 
suited;  no  man  had  more  levity  in  wanton  love,  or 
more  firm  affection  for  those  he  once  thoroughly  took 
to  his  heart.      He  was  the  reverse  of  grateful  for  service 


20  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

yielded;  yet  he  was  warm  in  protecting  those  on  whom 
service  was  conferred.  He  was  resolved  not  to  give  up 
the  Woodvilles,  and,  after  a  short  self-commune,  he 
equally  determined  not  to  risk  his  crown  and  life  by 
persevering  in  resistance  to  the  demand  for  their  down- 
fall. Inly  obstinate,  outwardly  yielding,  he  concealed 
his  falsehood  with  his  usual  soldierly  grace. 

""Warwick,"  he  said,  returning  to  the  earl's  side, 
"you  cannot  advise  me  to  what  is  misbeseeming,  and 
therefore,  in  this  strait,  I  resign  my  conduct  to  your 
hands.  I  will  not  unsay  to  yon  mutinous  gentlemen 
what  I  have  already  said;  but  what  you  judge  it  right 
to  promise  in  my  name  to  them,  or  to  the  insurgents,  I 
will  not  suppose  that  mine  honor  will  refuse  to  concede. 
But  go  not  hence,  0  noblest  friend  that  ever  stood  by 
a  king's  throne! — go  not  hence  till  the  grasp  of  your 
hand  assures  me  that  all  past  unkindness  is  gone  and 
buried;  yea,  and  by  this  hand,  and  while  its  pressure 
is  warm  in  mine,  bear  not  too  hard  on  thy  king's 
affection  for  his  lady's  kindred." 

"  Sire,"  said  Warwick,  though  his  generous  nature 
wellnigh  melted  into  weakness,  and  it  was  with  an 
effort  that  he  adhered  to  his  purpose, — "sire,  if  dis- 
missed for  a  while,  they  shall  not  be  degraded.  And 
if  it  be,  on  consideration,  wise  to  recall  from  the  family 
of  Woodville  your  grants  of  lands  and  lordships,  take 
from  your  WTarwick,  —  who,  rich  in  his  king's  love, 
hath  eno'  to  spare,  —  take  the  double  of  what  you 
would  recall.  Oh,  be  frank  with  me,  —  be  true,  be 
steadfast,  Edward,  and  dispose  of  my  lands  whenever 
you  would  content  a  favorite." 

"Not  to  impoverish  thee,  my  Warwick,"  answered 
Edward,  smiling,  "  did  I  call  thee  to  my  aid;  for  the 
rest,  my  revenues  as  Duke  of  York  are  at  least  mine 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAKONS.  21 

to  bestow.  Go  now  to  the  hostile  camp:  go  as  sole 
minister  and  captain-general  of  this  realm,  —  go  with 
all  powers  and  honors  a  king  can  give;  and  when  these 
districts  are  at  peace,  depart  to  our  Welsh  provinces, 
as  chief  justiciary  of  that  principality.  Pembroke's 
mournful  death  leaves  that  high  post  in  my  gift.  It 
cannot  add  to  your  greatness,  but  it  proves  to  England 
your  sovereign's  trust." 

"And  while  that  trust  is  given,"  said  Warwick,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  "  may  Heaven  strengthen  my  arm  in 
battle,  and  sharpen  my  brain  in  council.  But  I  play 
the  lasqard.  The  sun  wanes  westward ;  it  should  not 
go  down  while  a  hostile  army  menaces  the  son  of 
Richard  of  York." 

The  earl  strode  rapidly  away,  reached  the  broad  space 
where  his  followers  still  stood,  dismounted,  but  beside 
their  steeds,  — 

"Trumpets  advance;  pursuivants  and  heralds  go 
before,  —  Marmaduke,  mount!  The  rest  I  need  not. 
We  ride  to  the  insurgent  camp." 


22  THE   LAST    OF   THE   BARONS. 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  Camp  of  the  Rebels. 

The  rebels  had  halted  about  a  mile  from  the  town,  and 
were  already  pitching  their  tents  for  the  night.  It  was 
a  tumultuous,  clamorous,  but  not  altogether  undisci- 
plined array;  for  Coniers  was  a  leader  of  singular 
practice  in  reducing  men  into  the  machinery  of  "war, 
and  where  his  skill  might  have  failed,  the  prodigious 
influence  and  energy  of  Robin  of  Redesdale  ruled  the 
passions  and  united  the  discordant  elements.  This  last 
was,  indeed,  in  much  worthy  the  respect  in  which 
Warwick  held  his  name.  In  times  more  ripe  for 
him,  he  would  have  been  a  mighty  demagogue  and  a 
successful  regenerator.  His  birth  was  known  but  to 
few ;  his  education  and  imperious  temper  made  him 
vulgarly  supposed  of  noble  origin ;  but  had  he  descended 
from  a  king's  loins,  Robert  Hilyard  had  still  been  the 
son  of  the  Saxon  people.  Warwick  overrated,  perhaps, 
Hilyard's  wisdom;  for,  despite  his  Italian  experience, 
his  ideas  were  far  from  embracing  any  clear  and  definite 
system  of  democracy.  He  had  much  of  the  frantic 
levelism  and  jacquerie  of  his  age  and  land,  and  could 
probably  not  have  explained  to  himself  all  the  changes 
he  desired  to  effect;  but,  coupled  with  his  hatred  to  the 
nobles,  his  deep  and  passionate  sympathy  with  the  poor, 
his  heated  and  fanatical  chimeras  of  a  republic,  half- 
political  and  half-religious, — he  had,  with  no  uncom- 
mon inconsistency,  linked  the  cause  of  a  dethroned 
kii)£r.  For  as  the  Covenanters  linked  with  the  Stuarts 
against    the    succeeding    and    more    tolerant    dynasty, 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  23 

never  relinquishing  their  own  anti-monarchic  theories; 
as  in  our  time,  the  extreme  party  on  the  popular  side 
has  leagued  with  the  extreme  of  the  aristocratic,  in 
order  to  crush  the  medium  policy,  as  a  common  foe;  so 
the  bold  leveller  united  with  his  zeal  for  Margaret  the 
very  cause  which  the  House  of  Lancaster  might  be 
supposed  the  least  to  favor.  He  expected  to  obtain 
from  a  sovereign,  dependent  upon  a  popular  reaction 
for  restoration,  great  popular  privileges.  And  as  the 
church  had  deserted  the  Eed  Rose  for  the  White,  he 
sought  to  persuade  many  of  the  Lollards,  ever  ready  to 
show  their  discontent,  that  Margaret  (in  revenge  on  the 
hierarchy)  would  extend  the  protection  they  had  never 
found  in  the  previous  sway  of  her  husband  and  Henry  V. 
Possessed  of  extraordinary  craft,  and  even  cunning  in 
secular  intrigues,  energetic,  versatile,  bold,  indefati- 
gable, and,  above  all,  marvellously  gifted  with  the  arts 
that  inflame,  stir  up,  and  guide  the  physical  force  of 
masses,  —  Robert  Hilyard  had  been,  indeed,  the  soul 
and  life  of  the  present  revolt;  and  his  prudent  modera- 
tion in  resigning  the  nominal  command  to  those  whose 
military  skill  and  high  birth  raised  a  riot  into  the 
dignity  of  rebellion,  had  given  that  consistency  and 
method  to  the  rising  which  popular  movements  never 
attain  without  aristocratic  aid. 

In  the  principal  tent  of  the  encampment  the  leaders 
of  the  insurrection  were  assembled. 

There  was  Sir  John  Coniers,  who  had  married  one 
of  the  Neviles,  the  daughter  of  Fauconberg,  Lord  High 
Admiral,  but  who  had  profited  little  by  this  remote 
connection  with  Warwick ;  for,  with  all  his  merit,  he 
was  a  greedy,  grasping  man,  and  he  had  angered  the 
hot  earl  in  pressing  his  claims  too  imperiously.  This 
renowned    knight   was  a  tall,  gaunt    man,  whose   iron 


24  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

frame  sixty  winters  had  not  bowed ;  there  were  the 
young  heirs  of  Latimer  and  Fitzlmgh,  in  gay,  gilded 
armor,  and  scarlet  mantelines;  and  there,  in  a  plain 
cuirass,  trebly  welded,  and  of  immense  weight,  but  the 
lower  limbs  left  free  and  unencumbered,  in  thick  leathern 
hose,  stood  Robin  of  Redesdale.  Other  captains  there 
were,  whom  different  motives  had  led  to  the  common 
confederacy.  There  might  be  seen  the  secret  Lollard, 
hating  either  Rose,  stern  and  sour,  and  acknowledging 
no  leader  but  Hilyard,  whom  he  knew  as  a  Lollard's 
son;  there  might  be  seen  the  ruined  spendthrift,  dis- 
contented with  fortune,  and  regarding  civil  war  as  the 
cast  of  a  die, — death  for  the  forfeiture,  lordships  for 
the  gain;  there,  the  sturdy  Saxon  squire,  oppressed  by 
the  little  baron  of  his  province,  and  rather  hopeful  to 
abase  a  neighbor  than  dethrone  a  king,  of  whom  he 
knew  little,  and  for  whom  he  cared  still  less;  and 
there,  chiefly  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  grizzled 
beard,  upturned  mustache,  erect  mien,  and  grave,  not 
thoughtful  aspect,  were  the  men  of  a  former  period,  — 
the  soldiers  who  had  fought  against  the  Maid  of  Arc, — 
now  without  place,  station,  or  hope,  in  peaceful  times, 
already  half  robbers  by  profession,  and  decoyed  to  any 
standard  that  promised  action,   pay,  or  plunder. 

The  conclave  were  in  high  and  warm  dehate. 

"  If  this  be  true,"  said  Coniers,  who  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  his  helmet,  axe,  truncheon,  aud  a  rough 
map  of  the  walls  of  Olney  before  him,  —  "if  this  be 
true;  if  our  scouts  are  not  deceived;  if  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  is  in  the  village,  and  if  his  banner  float 
beside  King  Edward's,  —  I  say  bluntly,  as  soldiers 
should  speak,  that  I  have  been  deceived  and  juggled!  " 

"And  by  whom,  Sir  Knight  and  cousin?"  said  the 
heir  of  Fitzhugh  reddening. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  25 

"  By  you,  young  kinsman,  and  this  hot-mouthed  dare- 
devil, Robin  of  Redesdale!  Ye  assured  me,  both,  that 
the  earl  approved  the  rising;  that  he  permitted  the  levy- 
ing yon  troops  in  his  name;  that  he  knew  well  the  time 
was  come  to  declare  against  the  Woodvilles,  and  that  no 
sooner  was  an  army  mustered  than  he  would  place  him- 
self at  its  head;  and,  I  say,  if  this  be  not  true,  you  have 
brought  these  gray  hairs  into  dishonor!  " 

"And  what,  Sir  John  Colliers,"  exclaimed  Robin, 
rudely, — >  "  what  honor  had  your  gray  hairs  till  the  steel 
cap  covered  them1?  What  honor,  I  say,  under  lewd 
Edward  and  his  lusty  revellers?  You  were  thrown 
aside,  like  a  broken  scythe,  Sir  John  Coniers!  You 
were  forsaken  in  your  rust!  Warwick  himself,  your 
wife's  great  kinsman,  could  do  nought  in  your  favor! 
You  stand  now,  leader  of  thousands,  lord  of  life  and 
death,  master  of  Edward  and  the  throne!  We  have 
done  this  for  you,  and  you  reproach  us!  " 

"And,"  began  the  heir  of  Fitzhugh,  encouraged  by 
the  boldness  of  Hilyard,  "  we  had  all  reason  to  believe 
my  noble  uncle,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  approved  our 
emprise.  When  this  brave  fellow,"  pointing  to  Robin, 
"came  to  inform  me  that,  with  his  own  eyes,  he  had 
seen  the  waxen  effigies  of  my  great  kinsman,  the  hellish 
misdeed  of  the  queen's  witch-dam,  I  repaired  to  my  Lord 
Montagu;  and,  though  that  prudent  courtier  refused  to 
declare  openly,  he  let  me  see  that  war  with  the  Wood- 
villes was  not  unwelcome  to  him." 

"Yet  this  same  Montagu,"  observed  one  of  the  ring- 
leaders, "  when  Hilyard  was  wellnigh  at  the  gates  of 
York,  sallied  out  and  defeated  him,  sans  ruth,  sans 
ceremony." 

"  Yes,  but  he  spared  my  life,  and  beheaded  the  dead 
body   of   poor  Hugh   Withers   in   my  stead;   for  John 


26  THE   LAST    OF   THE    BARONS. 

Nevile  is  cunning,  and  he  picks  his  nuts  from  the 
brennen  without  lesing  his  own  paw.  It  was  not  the 
hour  for  him  to  join  us,  so  he  beat  us  civilly,  and  with 
discretion.  But  what  hath  he  done  since  1  He  stands 
aloof  while  our  army  swells,  while  the  bull  of  the 
Xeviles,  and  the  ragged  staff  of  the  earl,  are  the  ensigns 
of  our  war,  —  and  while  Edward  gnaws  out  his  fierce 
heart  in  yon  walls  of  Olney.  How  say  ye,  then,  that 
Warwick,  even  if  now  in  person  with  the  king,  is  in 
heart  against  us?  Nay,  he  may  have  entered  Olney 
but  to  capture  the  tyrant." 

"  If  so,"  said  Coniers,  "  all  is  as  it  should  be:  but  if 
Earl  Warwick,  who,  though  he  hath  treated  me  ill,  is 
a  stour  carle,  and  to  be  feared  if  not  loved,  join  the 
king,  I  break  this  wand,  and  ye  will  seek  out  another 
captain." 

"  And  a  captain  shall  be  found!  "  cried  Eobin.  "  Are 
we  so  poor  in  valor,  that  when  one  man  leaves  us  we  are 
headless  and  undone  1  What  if  Warwick  so  betray  us 
and  himself,  —  he  brings  no  forces.  And  never,  by 
God's  blessing,  should  we  separate,  till  we  have  redressed 
the  wrongs  of  our  countrymen !  " 

"Good!"  said  the  Saxon  squire,  winking  and  look- 
ing wise,  —  "  not  till  we  have  burned  to  the' ground  the 
Baron  of  Bullstock's  castle." 

"Not,"  said  a  Lollard,  sternly,  "  till  we  have  short- 
ened the  purple  gown  of  the  churchman,  —  not  till  abbot 
and  bishop  have  felt  on  their  backs  the  whip  wherewith 
they  have  scourged  the  godly  believer  and  the  humble 
saint. " 

"  Not,"  added  Robin,  "  till  we  have  assured  bread  to 
the  poor  man,  and  the  tilling  of  the  flesh-pot,  and  the 
law  to  the  weak,  and  the  scaffold  to  the  evil-doer." 

"  All  this  is  mighty  well,"  said,  bluntly,  Sir  Geoffrey 


THE   LAST    OF   THE   BAEONS.  27 

Gates,  the  leader  of  the  mercenaries,  a  skilful  soldier, 
but  a  predatory  and  lawless  bravo,  —  "  but  who  is  to  pay 
me  and  my  tall  fellows?  " 

At  this  pertinent  question,  there  was  a  general  hush 
of  displeasure  and  disgust. 

"  For  look  you,  my  masters,"  continued  Sir  Geoffrey, 
— "  as  long  as  I  and  my  comrades  here  believed  that 
the  rich  earl,  who  hath  half  England  for  his  provant, 
was  at  the  head  or  the  tail  of  this  matter,  we  were 
contented  to  wait  awhile;  but  devil  a  groat  hath  yet 
gone  into  my  gipsire,  —  and  as  for  pillage,  what  is  a 
farm  or  a  homestead!  an  it  were  a  church  or  a  castle 
there  might  be  pickings." 

"  There  is  much  plate  of  silver,  and  a  sack  or  so  of 
marks  and  royals  in  the  stronghold  of  the  Baron  of 
Bullstock,"  quoth  the  Saxon  squire,  doggedly  hounding 
on  to  his  revenge. 

"  You  see,  my  friends,"  said  Coniers,  with  a  smile, 
and  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  that  men  cannot  gird  a 
kingdom  with  ropes  of  sand.  Suppose  we  conquer  and 
take  captive  —  nay,  or  slay  King  Edward:  what  then  1  " 

"The  Duke  of  Clarence,  male  heir  to  the  throne," 
said  the  heir  of  Latimer,  "  is  Lord  Warwick's  son-in- 
law,   and  therefore  akin  to  you,   Sir  John." 

"  That  is  true,"  observed  Coniers,  musingly. 

"Not  ill  thought  of,  sir,"  said  Sir  Geoffrey  Gates,  — 
"  and  my  advice  is  to  proclaim  Clarence  king,  and 
Warwick  lord  protector.  We  have  some  chance  of  the 
angels  then." 

"Besides,"  said  the  heir  of  Fitzhugh,  "our  purpose 
once  made  clear,  it  will  be  hard  either  for  Warwick  or 
Clarence  to  go  against  us,  — harder  still  for  the  country 
not  to  believe  them  with  us.  Bold  measures  are  our 
wisest  councillors." 


28  THE   LAST    OF   THE   BARONS. 

"Um!"  said  the  Lollard, — "Lord  Warwick  is  a 
good  man,  and  hath  never,  though  his  brother  be  a 
bishop,  abetted  the  church  tyrannies.  But  as  for 
George  of  Clarence  —  " 

"As  for  Clarence,"  said  Hilyard,  who  saw,  with 
dismay  and  alarm,  that  the  rebellion  lie  designed  to 
turn  at  the  fitting  hour  to  the  service  of  Lancaster, 
might  now  only  help  to  shift,  from  one  shoulder  to 
the  other,  the  hated  dynasty  of  York,  —  "  as  for  Clar- 
ence, he  hath  Edward's  vices,  without  his  manhood." 
He  paused,  and  seeing  that  the  crisis  had  ripened  the 
hour  for  declaring  himself,  his  bold  temper  pushed  at 
once  to  its  object.  "  No!  "  he  continued,  folding  his 
arms,  raising  his  head  and  comprehending  the  whole 
council  in  his  keen  and  steady  gaze,  —  "no!  lords  and 
gentlemen;  since  speak  I  must,  in  this  emergency,  hear 
me  calmly.  Nothing  has  prospered  in  England  since 
we  abandoned  our  lawful  king.  If  we  rid  ourselves  of 
Edward,  let  it  not  be  to  sink  from  a  harlot-monger  to  a 
drunkard.  In  the  Tower  pines  our  true  lord,  already 
honored  as  a  saint.  Hear  me,  I  say, — hear  me  out! 
On  the  frontiers,  an  army  that  keeps  Gloucester  at  bay, 
hath  declared  for  Henry  and  Margaret.  Let  us,  after 
seizing  Olney,  march  thither,  at  once,  and  unite  forces. 
Margaret  is  already  prepared  to  embark  for  England.  I 
have  friends  in  London  who  will  attack  the  Tower,  and 
deliver  Henry.  To  you,  Sir  John  Coniers,  in  the 
queen's  name,  I  promise  an  earldom  and  the  garter. 
To  you,  the  heirs  of  Latimer  and  Fitzhugh,  the  high 
posts  that  beseem  your  birth ;  to  all  of  you,  knights  and 
captains,  just  share  and  allotment  in  the  confiscated 
lands  of  the  Woodvilles  and  the  Yorkists.  To  you, 
brethren,"  and  addressing  the  Lollards,  his  voice  soft- 
ened into  a  meaning  accent,  that,  compelled  to  worship 


THE   LAST    OF   THE    BARONS.  29 

in  secret,  they  yet  understood,  "  shelter  from  your  foes, 
and  mild  laws;  and  to  you,  brave  soldiers,  that  pay 
which  a  king's  coffers  alone  can  supply.  Wherefore  I 
say,  down  with  all  subject-banners!  up  with  the  Red 
Rose  and  the  Antelope,  and  long  live  Henry  VI." 

This  address,  however  subtle  in  its  adaptation  to  the 
various  passions  of  those  assembled,  however  aided  by  the 
voice,  spirit,  and  energy  of  the  speaker,  took  too  much 
by  surprise  those  present  to  produce  at  once  its  effect. 

The  Lollards  remembered  the  fires  lighted  for  their 
martyrs  by  the  House  of  Lancaster ;  and  though  blindly 
confident  in  Hilyard,  were  not  yet  prepared  to  respond 
to  his  call.  The  young  heir  of  Fitzhugh,  who  had,  in 
truth,  but  taken  arms  to  avenge  the  supposed  wrongs  of 
Warwick,  whom  he  idolized,  saw  no  object  gained  in 
the  rise  of  Warwick's  enemy,  Queen  Margaret.  The 
mercenaries  called  to  mind  the  woful  state  of  Henry's 
exchequer  in  the  former  time.  The  Saxon  squire  mut- 
tered to  himself,  "And  what  the  devil  is  to  become  of 
the  castle  of  Bullstock  1  "  But  Sir  Henry  Nevile  (Lord 
Latimer's  son),  who  belonged  to  that  branch  of  his 
house  which  had  espoused  the  Lancaster  cause,  and 
who  was  in  the  secret  councils  of  Hilyard,  caught  up 
the  cry,  and  said, "  Hilyard  doth  not  exceed  his  powers; 
and  he  who  strikes  for  the  Red  Rose,  shall  carve  out 
his  own  lordship  from  the  manors  of  every  Yorkist  that 
he  slays!"  Sir  John  Coniers  hesitated;  poor,  long 
neglected,  ever  enterprising  and  ambitious,  he  was 
dazzled  by  the  proffered  bribe,  —  but  age  is  slow  to 
act,  and  he  expressed  himself  with  the  measured  caution 
of  gray  hairs. 

"A  king's  name,"  said  he,  "  is  a  tower  of  strength, 
especially  when  marching  against  a  king;  but  this  is 
a  matter  for  general  assent  and  grave  forethought." 


30  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

Before  any  other  (for  ideas  did  not  rus"h  at  once  to 
words  in  those  days)  found  his  tongue,  a  mighty  uproar 
was  heard  without.      It  did  not  syllable   itself  into  dis- 
tinct sound;  it  uttered  no  name,  —  it  was  such  a  shout 
as  numbers  alone  could  raise,  and  to  such  a  shout  would 
some  martial  leader  have  rejoiced  to  charge  to   battle, 
so  full  of  depth  and  fervor,  and  enthusiasm,  and  good 
heart,  it  seemed,  leaping  from  rank  to  rank,  from  breast 
to  breast,  from  earth  to  heaven.      "With  one  accord  the 
startled  captains  made  to  the  entrance  of  the  tent,  and 
there  they  saw,  in  the  broad  space  before  them,  enclosed 
by  the  tents  which  were  grouped  in  a  wide   semicircle, 
—  for  the   mass   of  the   hardy  rebel  army  slept  in  the 
open  air,  and  the  tents  were  but  for  leaders,  —  they  saw, 
we  say,  in  that  broad  space,  a  multitude   kneeling,  and 
in   the   midst,    upon   his   good   steed    Saladin,    bending 
graciously    down,    the    martial    countenance,    the    lofty 
stature,   of    the   Earl   of   Warwick.      Those   among   the 
captains  who  knew  him  not  personally,  recognized  him 
by  the  popular  description,  —  by  the  black  war-horse, 
whose  legendary  fame  had  been  hymned  by  every  min- 
strel;  by  the  sensation  his  appearance  had  created;  by 
the  armorial    insignia   of    his  heralds,  grouped   behind 
him,  and  whose  gorgeous  tabards  blazed  with  his  cog- 
nizance and  quarterings  in  azure,  or,  and  argent.      The 
sun  was  slowly  setting,  and  poured  its  rays  upon  the 
bare  head  of  the  mighty  noble,  gathering  round  it  in 
the  hazy  atmosphere  like  a  halo.      The  homage  of  the 
crowd  to  that  single  form,  unarmed,  and  scarce  attended, 
struck  a  death-knell  to  the  hopes  of  Hilyard,  — struck 
awe  into  all  his  comrades!     The  presence  of  that  one 
man  seemed  to  ravish  from  them,  as  by  magic,  a  vast 
army;  power,  and  state,  and  command,  left  them  sud- 
denly  to  be  absorbed   in   him!      Captains,   they    were 


THE   LAST   OF    THE    B AEONS.  31 

troopless,  — the  wielder  of  men's  hearts  was  amongst 
them,  and  from  his  barb  assumed  reign,  as  from  his 
throne! 

"  Gads,  my  life!  "  said  Corners,  turning  to  his  com- 
rades, "  we  have  now,  with  a  truth,  the  earl  amongst 
us;  but,  unless  he  come  to  lead  us  on  to  Olney,  I  would 
as  lief  see  the  king's  provost  at  my  shoulder." 

"The  crowd  separates,  —  he  rides  this  way!"  said 
the  heir  of  Fitzhugh.  "  Shall  we  go  forth  to  meet 
him?" 

"  Xot  so!"  exclaimed  Hilyard,  "we  are  still  the 
leaders  of  this  army ;  let  him  find  us  deliberating  on 
the  siege  of  Olney !  " 

"  Right!  "  said  Coniers ;  "  and  if  there  come  dispute, 
let  not  the  rabble  hear  it." 

The  captains  re-entered  the  tent,  and  in  grave  silence 
awaited  the  earl's  coming;  nor  was  this  suspense  long. 
Warwick,  leaving  the  multitude  in  the  rear,  and  taking 
only  one  of  the  subaltern  officers  in  the  rebel  camp  as 
his  guide  and  usher,  arrived  at  the  tent,  and  was 
admitted  into   the  council. 

The  captains,  Hilyard  alone  excepted,  bowed  with 
great  reverence   as  the  earl  entered. 

"Welcome,  puissant  sir,  and  illustrious  kinsman!" 
said  Coniers,  who  had  decided  on  the  line  to  be  adopted, 
■ —  "  you  are  come  at  last  to  take  the  command  of  the 
troops  raised  in  your  name,  and  into  your  hands  I  resign 
this  truncheon. " 

"  I  accept  it,  Sir  John  Coniers,"  answered  Warwick, 
taking  the  place  of  dignity;  "and  since  you  thus  con- 
stitute me  your  commander,  I  proceed  at  once  to  my 
stern  duties.  How  happens  it,  knights  and  gentlemen, 
that  in  my  absence  ye  have  dared  to  make  my  name  the 
pretext  of  rebellion?     Speak  thou,  my  sister's  son!  " 


32  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"  Cousin  and  lord,"  said  the  heir  of  Fitzhugh,  red- 
dening but  not  abashed,  "  we  could  not  believe  but 
what  you  would  smile  on  those  who  have  risen  to  assert 
your  wrongs  and  defend  your  life."  And  he  then  briefly 
related  the  tale  of  the  Duchess  of  Bedford's  waxen 
effigies,  and  pointed  to  Hilyard  as  the  eyewitness. 

"  And,"  began  Sir  Henry  Nevile,  "you,  meanwhile, 
were  banished,  seemingly,  from  the  king's  court;  the 
dissensions  between  you  and  Edward  sufficiently  the 
land's  talk, — the  king's  vices,   the  land's  shame!" 

"  Nor  did  we  act  without  at  least  revealing  our  inten- 
tions to  my  uncle  and  your  brother,  the  Lord  Montagu," 
added  the  heir  of  Fitzhugh. 

"Meanwhile,"  said  Robin  of  Redesdale,  "the  com- 
mons were  oppressed,  the  people  discontented,  the 
Woodvilles  plundering  us,  and  the  king  wasting  our 
substance  on  concubines  and  minions.  We  have  had 
cause  eno'  for  our  rising!" 

The  earl  listened  to  each  speaker  in  stern  silence. 

"For  all  this,"  he  said  at  last,  "you  have,  without 
my  leave  or  sanction,  levied  armed  men  in  my  name, 
and  would  have  made  Richard  Nevile  seem  to  Europe 
a  traitor,  without  the  courage  to  be  a  rebel!  Your 
lives  are  in  my  power,  and  those  lives  are  forfeit  to  the 
laws." 

"  If  we  have  incurred  your  disfavor  from  our  over-zeal 
for  you,"  said  the  son  of  Lord  Fitzhugh,  touchingly, 
"  take  our  lives,  for  they  are  of  little  worth."  And 
the  young  nobleman  unbuckled  his  sword,  and  laid  it 
on  the  table. 

"But,"  resumed  Warwick,  not  seeming  to  heed  his 
nephew's  humility,  "  I,  who  have  ever  loved  the  people 
of  England,  and  before  king  and  Parliament  have  ever 
pleaded   their   cause,  —  I,   as  captain-general    and  first 


THE   LAST    OF   THE   BATONS.  S3 

officer  of  these  realms,  here  declare,  that  whatever 
motives  of  ambition  or  interest  may  have  misled  men 
of  mark  and  birth,  I  believe  that  the  commons  at  least 
never  rise  in  arms  without  some  excuse  for  their  error. 
Speak  out  then,  you,  their  leaders;  and  putting  aside 
all  that  relates  to  me  as  the  one  man,  say  what  are  the 
grievances  of  which  the  many  would  complain." 

And  now  there  was  silence,  for  the  knights  and 
gentlemen  knew  little  of  the  complaints  of  the  popu- 
lace ;  the  Lollards  did  not  dare  to  expose  their  oppressed 
faith,  and  the  squires  and  franklins  were  too  uneducated 
to  detail  the  grievances  they  had  felt.  But  then,  the 
immense  superiority  of  the  man  of  the  people  at  once 
asserted  itself;  and  Hilyard  whose  eye  the  earl  had 
hitherto  shunned,  lifted  his  deep  voice.  With  clear 
precision,  in  indignant,  but  not  declamatory  eloquence, 
he  painted  the  disorders  of  the  time,  —  the  insolent 
exactions  of  the  hospitals  and  abbeys;  the  lawless  vio- 
lence of  each  petty  baron ;  the  weakness  of  the  royal 
authority  in  restraining  oppression;  its  terrible  power 
in  aiding  the  oppressor.  He  accumulated  instance  on 
instance  of  misrule ;  he  showed  the  insecurity  of  prop- 
erty, the  adulteration  of  the  coin,  the  burden  of  the 
imposts;  lie  spoke  of  Avives  and  maidens  violated,  —  of 
industry  defrauded,  of  houses  forcibly  entered,  of  barns 
and  granaries  despoiled,  of  the  impunity  of  all  offenders, 
if  high-born,  of  the  punishment  of  all  complaints,  if 
poor  and  lowly.  "Tell  us  not,"  he  said,  "that  this  is 
the  necessary  evil  of  the  times,  the  hard  condition  of 
mankind.  It  was  otherwise,  Lord  Warwick,  when 
Edward  first  swayed;  for  you  then  made  yourself  dear 
to  tha  people  by  your  justice.  Still  men  talk,  here- 
abouts, of  the  golden  rule  of  Earl  Warwick;  but  since 
you  have  been,  though  great  in  office,  powerless  in  deed, 

VOL    II.  —  3 


34  THE    LAST    OF   THE   BARONS. 

absent  in  Calais,  or  idle  at  Middleham,  England  hath 
been  but  the  plaything  of  the  Woodvilles,  and  the 
king's  ears  have  been  stuffed  with  flattery  as  with 
wool.  And,"  continued  Hilyard,  warming  with  his 
subject,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  the  Lollards,  entering 
boldly  on  their  master-grievance  —  "  and  this  is  not  all. 
When  Edward  ascended  the  throne,  there  was,  if  not 
justice,  at  least  repose,  for  the  persecuted  believers  who 
hold  that  God's  word  was  given  to  man  to  read,  study, 
and  digest  into  godly  deeds.  I  speak  plainly.  I  speak 
of  that  faith  which  your  great  father,  Salisbury,  and 
many  of  the  house  of  York,  were  believed  to  favor,  — 
that  faith  which  is  called  the  Lollard,  and  the  oppres- 
sion of  which,  more  than  anght  else,  lost  to  Lancaster 
the  hearts  of  England.  But  of  late,  the  Church, 
assuming  the  power  it  ever  grasps  the  most  under  the 
most  licentious  kings  (for  the  sinner  prince  hath  ever 
the  tyrant  priest!),  hath  put  in  vigor  old  laws,  for  the 
wronging  man's  thought  and  conscience  ; x  and  we  sit  at 
our  doors  under  the  shade,  not  of  the  vine-tree,  but  the 
gibbet.  For  all  these  things  we  have  drawn  the  sword; 
and  if  now  you,  taking  advantage  of  the  love  borne  to 
you  by  the  sons  of  England,  push  that  sword  back  into 
the  sheath,  you,  generous,  great,  and  princely,  though 
you  be,  well  deserve  the  fate  that  I  foresee  and  can 
foretell.  Yes!  "  cried  the  speaker,  extending  his  arms, 
and  gazing  fixedly  on  the  proud  face  of  the  earl,  which 
was  not  inexpressive  of  emotion  —  "yes!  I  see  you, 
having  deserted  the  people,   deserted   by   them   also   in 

1  The  Lollards  had  greatly  contributed  to  seat  Edward  on  the 
throne;  and  much  of  the  subsequent  discontent,  no  doubt,  arose 
from  their  disappointment,  when,  as  Sharon  Turner  well  expresses 
it,  "  his  indolence  allied  him  to  the  Church,"  and  he  became  "  hereti- 
corum  severissimus  hostis."  —  Croy!.,  p.  564. 


THE   LAST    OF   THE   BARONS.  3u 

your  need,  — I  see  you,  the  dupe  of  an  ungrateful  king, 
stripped  of  power  and  honor,  an  exile  and  an  outlaw; 
and  when  you  call  in  vain  upon  the  people,  in  whose 
hearts  you  now  reign,  remeraher,  O  fallen  star,  son  of 
the  morning!  that  in  the  hour  of  their  might  you  struck 
down  the  people's  right  arm,  and  paralyzed  their  power. 
And  now,  if  you  will,  let  your  friends  and  England's 
champions  glut  the  scaffolds  of  your  woman-king!  " 

He  ceased,  —  a  murmur  went  round  the  conclave; 
every  breast  breathed  hard,  —  every  eye  turned  to  War- 
wick. That  mighty  statesman  mastered  the  effect  which 
the  thrilling  voice  of  the  popular  pleader  produced  on 
him;  but  at  that  moment  he  had  need  of  all  his  frank 
and  honorable  loyalty  to  remind  him  that  he  was  there 
but  to  fulfil  a  promise  and  discharge  a  trust,  —  that  he 
was  the  king's  delegate,  not  the  king's  judge. 

"You  have  spoken,  bold  men,"  said  he,  "  as,  in  an 
hour  when  the  rights  of  princes  are  weighed  in  one 
scale,  the  subjects'  swords  in  the  other,  I,  were  I  king, 
would  wish  free,  men  to  speak.  And  now  you,  Robert 
Hilyard,  and  you,  gentlemen,  hear  me,  as  envoy  to 
King  Edward  IV.  To  all  of  you  I  promise  complete 
amnesty  and  entire  pardon.  His  Highness  believes 
you  misled,  not  criminal,  and  your  late  deeds  will  not 
be  remembered  in  your  future  services.  So  much  for 
the  leaders.  Now  for  the  commons.  My  liege  the 
king  is  pleased  to  recall  me  to  the  high  powers  I  once 
exercised,  and  to  increase  rather  than  to  lessen  them. 
In  his  name,  I  pledge  myself  to  full  and  strict  inquiry 
into  all  the  grievances  Robin  of  Redesdale  hath  set 
forth,  with  a  view  to  speedy  and  complete  redress. 
Nor  is  this  all.  His  Highness,  laying  aside  his  pur- 
pose of  war  with  France,  will  have  less  need  of  imposts 
on   his   subjects,  and   the   burdens    and    taxes    will    be 


36  THE    LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

reduced.  Lastly,  —  his  Grace,  ever  anxious  to  content 
his  people,  hath  most  benignly  empowered  me  to  promise 
that,  whether  or  not  ye  rightly  judge  the  queen's  kin- 
dred, they  will  no  longer  have  part  or  weight  in  the 
king's  councils.  The  Duchess  of  Bedford,  as  beseems 
a  lady  so  sorrowfully  widowed,  will  retire  to  her  own 
home;  and  the  Lord  Scales  will  fulfil  a  mission  to  the 
court  of  Spain.  Thus,  then,  assenting  to  all  reasonable 
demands,  —  promising  to  heal  all  true  grievances,  prof- 
fering you  gracious  pardon,  —  I  discharge  my  duty  to 
king  and  to  people.  I  pray  that  these  unhappy  sores 
may  be  healed  evermore,  under  the  blessing  of  God  and 
our  patron  saint;  and  in  the  name  of  Edward  IV.,  Lord 
Suzerain  of  England  and  of  France,  I  break  up  this 
truncheon  and  disband  this  army!" 

Among  those  present,  this  moderate  and  wise  address 
produced  a  general  sensation  of  relief;  for  the  earl's 
disavowal  of  the  revolt  took  away  all  hope  of  its  suc- 
cess. But  the  common  approbation  was  not  shared  by 
Hilyard.  He  sprang  upon  the  table,  and,  seizing  the 
broken  fragments  of  the  truncheon  which  the  earl  had 
snapped  as  a  willow  twig,  exclaimed,  "  And  thus,  in 
the  name  of  the  people,  I  seize  the  command  that  ye 
unworthily  resign!  Oh,  yes;  what  fools  were  yonder 
drudges  of  the  hard  hand  and  the  grimed  brow,  and 
the  leather  jerkin,  to  expect  succor  from  knight  and 
noble !  " 

So  saying,  he  bounded  from  the  tent,  and  rushed 
towards  the  multitude  at  the  distance. 

"Ye,  knights  and  lords,  men  of  blood  and  birth, 
were  but  the  tools  of  a  manlier  and  wiser  Cade!  "  said 
Warwick,  calmly.      "  Follow  me!  " 

The  earl  strode  from  the  tent,  sprang  upon  his  steed, 
and  was  in  the  midst  of  the  troops,   with  his  heralds 


THE   LAST    OF   THE   BARONS.  61 

by  his  side,  ere  Hilyard  had  been  enabled  to  begin 
the  harangue  he  had  intended.  Warwick's  trumpets 
sounded  to  silence;  and  the  earl  himself,  in  his  loud, 
clear  voice,  briefly  addressed  the  immense  audience. 
Master,  scarcely  less  than  Hilyard,  of  the  popular 
kind  of  eloquence,  which  —  short,  plain,  generous, 
and  simple  —  cuts  its  way  at  once  through  the  feel- 
ings to  the  policy,  Warwick  briefly  but  forcibly  reca- 
pitulated to  the  commons  the  promises  he  had  made 
to  the  captains ;  and  as  soon  as  they  heard  of  taxes 
removed,  the  coinage  reformed,  the  corn  thrave  abol- 
ished, the  Woodvilles  dismissed,  and  the  earl  recalled 
to  power,  the  rebellion  was  at  an  end.  They  answered 
with  a  joyous  shout  his  order  to  disperse  and  retire  to 
their  homes  forthwith;  but  the  indomitable  Hilyard, 
ascending  a  small  eminence,  began  his  counter-agitation. 
The  earl  saw  his  robust  form  and  waving  hand,  —  he  saw 
the  crowd  sway  towards  him;  and  too  well  acquainted 
with  mankind  to  suffer  his  address,  he  spurred  to  the  spot, 
and  turning  to  Marmaduke,  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Mar- 
niaduke  Nevile.  arrest  that  man  in  the  king's  name!  " 

Marmaduke  sprang  from  his  steed,  and  laid  his  hand 
on  Hilyard's  shoulder.  Not  one  of  the  multitude 
stirred  on  behalf  of  their  demagogue.  As  before  the 
sun  recede  the  stars,  all  lesser  lights  had  died  in  the 
blaze  of  Warwick's  beloved  name.  Hilyard  griped  his 
dagger,  and  struggled  an  instant;  but  when  he  saw  the 
awe  and  apathy  of  the  armed  mob,  a  withering  expres- 
sion of  disdain  passed  over  his  hardy  face. 

"Do  ye  suffer  this?  "  he  said,  — "  do  ye  suffer  me, 
who  have  placed  swords  in  your  hands,  to  go  forth   in 
bonds,  and  to  the  death  1  " 

"  The  stout  earl  wrongs  no  man,"  said  a  single  voice, 
and  the  populace  echoed  the  word. 


33  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"  Sir,  then,  I  care  not  for  life,  since  liberty  is  gone. 
I  yield  myself  your  prisoner." 

"A  horse  for  my  captive!"  said  Warwick,  laugh- 
ing,—  "and  hear  me  promise  you,  that  he  shall  go 
unscathed  in  goods  and  in  limbs.  God  wot,  when 
Warwick  and  the  people  meet,  no  victim  should 
be  sacrificed!  Hurrah  for  King  Edward  and  fair 
England!" 

He  waved  his  plumed  cap  as  he  spoke,  and  within 
the  walls  of  Olney  was  heard  the  shout  that  answered. 

Slowly  the  earl  and  his  scanty  troop  turned  the  rein: 
as  he  receded,  the  multitude  broke  up  rapidly,  and 
when  the  moon  rose,  that  camp  was  a  solitude!1 

Such,  for  our  nature  is  ever  grander  in  the  indi- 
vidual than  the  mass.  —  Such  is  the  power  of  man 
above  mankind! 

1  The  dispersion  of  the  rebels  at  Olney  is  forcibly  narrated  by  a 
few  sentences,  graphic  from  their  brief  simplicity,  in  the  "  Picto- 
rial History  of  England,"  Book  v.  p.  104.  "  They  (Warwick,  etc.) 
repaired  in  a  very  friendly  manner  to  Olney,  where  they  found 
Edward  in  a  most  unhappy  condition  ;  his  friends  were  dead  or 
scattered,  flying  for  their  lives,  or  hiding  themselves  in  remote 
places ;  the  insurgents  were  almost  upon  him.  A  word  from 
Warwick  sent  the  insurgents  quietly  back  to  the  North." 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BA1I0NS.  39 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Norman  Earl  ami  the  Saxon  Demaffoefue  confer. 

On  leaving  the  camp,  Warwick  rode  in  advance  of  his 
train,  and  his  countenance  was  serious  and  full  of 
thought.  At  length,  as  a  turn  in  the  road  hid  the  little 
band  from  the  view  of  the  rebels,  the  earl  motioned  to 
Marmaduke  to  advance  with  his  prisoner.  The  young 
Nevile  then  fell  back,  and  Robin  and  Warwick  rode 
breast  to  breast,   out  of  hearing  of  the  rest. 

"  Master  Hilyard,  I  am  well  content  that  my  brother, 
when  you  fell  into  his  hands,  spared  your  life,  out  of 
gratitude  for  the  favor  you  once  showed  to  mine. " 

"  Your  noble  brother,  my  lord, "  answered  Robin, 
dryly,  "  is,  perhaps,  not  aware  of  the  service  I  once 
rendered  you.  Methinks  he  spared  me  rather,  because, 
without  me,  an  enterprise  which  has  shaken  the  Wood- 
villes  from  their  roots  around  the  throne,  and  given 
back  England  to  the  Neviles,  had  been  nipped  in  the 
bud !  —  Your  brother  is  a  deep  thinker  !  " 

"  I  grieve  to  hear  thee  speak  thus  of  the  Lord  Mon- 
tagu. I  know  that  he  hath  wilier  devices  than  become, 
in  mine  eyes,  a  well-born  knight  and  a  sincere  man; 
but  he  loves  his  king,  and  his  ends  are  juster  than  his 
means.  Master  Hilyard,  enough  of  the  past  evil.  Some 
months  after  the  field  of  Hexham,  I  chanced  to  fall, 
when  alone,  amongst  a  band  of  roving  and  fierce  Lan- 
castrian outlaws.  Thou,  their  leader,  recognizing  the 
crest  on  my  helm,  and  mindful  of  some  slight  indul- 
gence once  shown  to  thy  strange  notions  of  republican 


40  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

liberty,  didst  save  me  from  the  swords  of  thy  followers: 
from  that  time  I  have  sought  in  vain  to  mend  thy  for- 
tunes. Thou  hast  rejected  all  mine  offers,  and  I  know 
well  that  thou  hast  lent  thy  service  to  the  fatal  cause 
of  Lancaster.  Many  a  time  I  might  have  given  thee  to 
the  law,  but  gratitude  for  thy  aid  in  the  needful  strait, 
and  to  speak  sooth,  my  disdain  of  all  individual  efforts 
to  restore  a  fallen  house,  made  me  turn  my  eyes  from 
transgressions,  which,  once  made  known  to  the  king, 
had  placed  thee  beyond  pardon.  I  see  now  that  thou 
art  a  man  of  head  and  arm  to  bring  great  danger  upon 
nations;  and  though  this  time  Warwick  bids  thee  escape 
and  live,  —  if  once  more  thou  offend,  know  me  only  as 
the  king's  minister.  The  debt  between  us  is  now  can- 
celled. Yonder  lies  the  path  that  conducts  to  the  forest. 
Farewell.  Yet  stay  !  —  poverty  may  have  led  thee  into 
treason. " 

"  Poverty, "  interrupted  Hilyard,  —  "  poverty,  Lord 
Warwick,  leads  men  to  sympathize  with  the  poor,  and 
therefore  I  have  done  with  riches."  He  paused,  and 
his  breast  heaved.  "Yet,  "he  added,  sadly,  "now  that 
I  have  seen  the  cowardice  and  ingratitude  of  men,  my 
calling  seems  over,   and  my  spirit  crushed." 

"  Alas !  "  said  Warwick,  "  whether  man  be  rich  or 
poor,  ingratitude  is  the  vice  of  men ;  and  you,  who  have 
felt  it  from  the  mob,  menace  me  with  it  from  a  king. 
But  each  must  carve  out  his  own  way  through  this 
earth,  without  over  care  for  applause  or  blame;  and  the 
tomb  is  the  sole  judge  of  mortal  memory!  " 

Robin  looked  hard  in  the  earl's  face,  which  was  dark 
and  gloomy,  as  he  thus  spoke,  and  approaching  nearer, 
he  said,  "  Lord  Warwick,  I  take  from  you  liberty  and 
life  the  more  willingly,  because  a  voice  I  cannot  mis- 
take tells  me,  and  hath  long  told,    that,   sooner  or  later, 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  41 

time  will  bind  us  to  each  other.  Unlike  other  nobles, 
you  have  owed  your  power  not  so  much  to  lordship, 
land,  and  birth,  and  a  king's  smile,  as  to  the  love  you 
have  nobly  won ;  you  alone,  true  knight  and  princely 
Christian,  —  you  alone,  in  war,  have  spared  the  humble ; 
you  alone,  stalwart  and  resistless  champion,  have  directed 
your  lance  against  your  equals,  and  your  order  hath  gone 
forth  to  the  fierce  of  heart,  '  Never  smite  the  commons !  ' 
In  peace,  you  alone  have  stood  up  in  your  haughty 
Parliament  for  just  law  or  for  gentle  mercy;  your  castle 
hath  had  a  board  for  the  hungry,  and  a  shelter  for  the 
houseless;  your  pride,  which  hath  bearded  kings  and 
humbled  upstarts,  hath  never  had  a  taunt  for  the  lowly  ; 
and  therefore  I,  — son  of  the  people,  —  in  the  people's 
name,  bless  you  living,  and  sigh  to  ask  whether  a  people's 
gratitude  will  mourn  you  dead !  Beware  Edward's  false 
smile,  —  beware  Clarence's  fickle  faith;  beware  Glou- 
cester's inscrutable  wile.  Mark,  the  sun  sets  !  —  and 
while  we  speak,  yon  dark  cloud  gathers  over  your 
plumed  head." 

He  pointed  to  the  heavens  as  he  ceased,  and  a  low 
roll  of  gathering  thunder  seemed  to  answer  his  ominous 
warning.  Without  tarrying  for  the  earl's  answer,  Hil- 
yard  shook  the  reins  of  his  steed,  and  disappeared  in 
the  winding  of  the  lane  through  which  he  took  his 
way. 


42  THE  LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

What  faith  Edward  IV.  purposeth  to  keep  with  Earl  and  People. 

Edward  received  his  triumphant  envoy  with  open  arms 
and  profuse  expressions  of  gratitude.  He  exerted  himself 
to  the  utmost  in  the  banquet  that  crowned  the  day,  not 
only  to  conciliate  the  illustrious  new-comers,  but  to 
remove  from  the  minds  of  Raoul  de  Fulke  and  his 
officers  all  memory  of  their  past  disaffection.  No  gift  is 
rarer  or  more  successful  in  the  intrigues  of  life  than  that 
which  Edward  eminently  possessed,  —  namely,  the  hypoc- 
risy  of  frankness.  Dissimulation  is  often  humble,  often 
polished,  often  grave,  sleek,  smooth,  decorous;  but  it 
is  rarely  gay  and  jovial,  a  hearty  laugher,  a  merry, 
cordial,  boon  companion.  Such,  however,  was  the  feli- 
citous craft  of  Edward  IV.  ;  and,  indeed,  his  spirits  were 
naturally  so  high,  —  his  gooddiumor  so  flowing,  —  that 
this  joyous  hypocrisy  cost  him  no  effort.  Elated  at  the 
dispersion  of  his  foes,  —  at  the  prospect  of  his  return  to 
his  ordinary  life  of  pleasure,  —  there  was  something  so 
kindly  and  so  winning  in  his  mirth,  that  he  subjugated 
entirely  the  fiery  temper  of  Raoul  de  Eulke  and  the 
steadier  suspicions  of  the  more  thoughtful  St.  John. 
Clarence,  wholly  reconciled  to  Edward,  gazed  on  him 
with  eyes  swimming  with  affection,  and  soon  drank 
himself  into  uproarious  joviality.  The  archbishop, 
more  reserved,  still  animated  the  society  by  the  dry 
and  epigrammatic  wit  not  uncommon  to  his  learned 
and  subtle  mind;  but  Warwick  in  vain  endeavored 
to  shake   off  an   uneasy,   ominous  gloom.      He  was  not 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  43 

satisfied  with  Edward's  avoidance  of  discussion  upon 
the  grave  matters  involved  in  the  earl's  promise  to  the 
insurgents,  and  his  masculine  spirit  regarded  with  some 
disdain,  and  more  suspicion,  a  levity  that  he  considered 
ill  suited  to  the  emergence. 

The  banquet  was  over,  and  Edward,  having  dis- 
missed his  other  attendants,  was  in  his  chamber  with 
Lord  Hastings,  whose  office  always  admitted  him  to 
the  wardrobe  of  the  king. 

Edward's  smile  had  now  left  his  lip ;  he  paced  the 
room  with  a  hasty  stride,  and  then  suddenly  opening 
the  casement,  pointed  to  the  landscape  without,  which 
lay  calm  and  suffused  in  moonlight. 

"  Hastings, "  said  he,  abruptly,  "  a  few  hours  since, 
and  the  earth  grew  spears!  Behold  the  landscape 
now !  " 

"  So  vanish  all  the  king's  enemies !  " 

"Ay,  man,  ay, —  if  at  the  king's  word,  or  before  the 
king's  battle-axe;  but  at  a  subject's  command  —  No, 
I  am  not  a  king  while  another  scatters  armies  in  my 
realm  at  his  bare  will.  'Fore  Heaven,  this  shall  not 
last!" 

Hastings  regarded  the  countenance  of  Edward,  changed 
from  affable  beauty  into  terrible  fierceness,  with  reflec- 
tions suggested  by  his  profound  and  mournful  wisdom. 
"  How  little  a  man's  virtues  profit  him  in  the  eyes  of 
men!"  thought  he.  "The  subject  saves  the  crown, 
and  the  crown's  wearer  never  pardons  the  presumption !  " 

"  You  do  not  speak,  sir ! "  exclaimed  Edward,  irri- 
tated and  impatient.     "  Why  gaze  you  thus  on  me  ?  " 

"Beau  sire,"  returned  the  favorite,  calmly,  "I  was 
seeking  to  discover  if  your  pride  spoke  or  your  nobler 
nature." 

"  Tush  !  "    said  the   king,   petulantly,  — "  the   noblest 


44  THE   LAST    OF   THE    BARONS. 

part  of  a  king's  nature  is  his  pride  as  king!  "  Again 
he  strode  the  chamber,  and  again  halted.  "  But  the 
earl  hath  fallen  into  his  own  snare,  —  he  hath  promised 
in  my  name  what  I  will  not  perform.  Let  the  people 
learn  that  their  idol  hath  deceived  them.  He  asks  me 
to  dismiss  from  the  court  the  queen's  mother  and 
kindred  !  " 

Hastings,  who  in  this  went  thoroughly  with  the 
earl  and  the  popular  feeling,  and  whose  only  enemies 
in  England  were  the  Woodvilles,  replied  simply,— 

"  These  are  cheap  terms,  sire,  for  a  king's  life,  and 
the  crown  of  England." 

Edward  started,  and  his  eyes  flashed  that  cold,  cruel 
fire,  which  makes  eyes  of  a  light  coloring  so  far  more 
expressive  of  terrible  passions  than  the  quicker  and 
warmer  heat  of  dark  orbs.  "Think  you  so,  sir?  By 
God's  blood,  he  who  proffered  them  shall  repent  it  in 
every  vein  of  his  body!  Hark  ye,  William  Hastings 
de  Hastings,  I  know  you  to  be  a  deep  and  ambitious 
man ;  but  better  for  you,  had  you  covered  that  learned 
brain  under  the  cowl  of  a  mendicant  friar,  than  lent  one 
thought  to  the  councils  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick. " 

Hastings,  Avho  felt  even  to  fondness  the  affection 
which  Edward  generally  inspired  in  those  about  his 
person,  and  who,  far  from  sympathizing,  except  in 
hate  of  the  Woodvilles,  with  the  earl,  saw  that  beneath 
that  mighty  tree  no  new  plants  could  push  into  their 
fullest  foliage,  reddened  with  anger  at  this  imperious 
menace. 

"  My  liege,"  said  he,  with  becoming  dignity  and 
spirit,  "  if  you  can  thus  address  your  most  tried  con- 
fidant  and  your  lealest  friend,  your  most  dangerous 
enemy  is  yourself." 

"Stay,    man,"  said  the  king,   softening;  "  I  was  over 


THE    LAST    OF   THE   BARONS.  4o 

warm,  but  the  wild  beast  within  me  is  chafed.     Would 
Gloucester  were  here !  " 

"  I  can  tell  you  what  would  be  the  counsels  of  that 
wise  young  prince,  for  I  know  his  mind,"  answered 
Hastings. 

"  Ay,  he  and  you  love  each  other  well.      Speak  out. " 

"  Prince  Richard  is  a  great  reader  of  Italian  lere. 
He  saith  that  those  small  states  are  treasuries  of  all 
experience.  From  that  lere  Prince  Richard  would  say 
to  you,  '  Where  a  subject  is  so  great  as  to  be  feared, 
and  too  much  beloved  to  be  destroyed,  the  king  must 
remember  how  Tarpeia  was  crushed.'  " 

"  I  remember  nought  of  Tarpeia,  and  I  detest 
parables." 

"  Tarpeia,  sire  (it  is  a  story  of  old  Rome),  was  crushed 
under  the  weight  of  presents.  Oh,  my  liege,"  continued 
Hastings,  warming  with  that  interest  which  an  able  man 
feels  in  his  own  superior  art,  "  were  I  king  for  a  year, 
by  the  end  of  it  Warwick  should  be  the  most  unpopular 
(and  therefore  the  weakest)  lord  in  England  !  " 

"  And  how,  0  wise  in  thine  own  conceit?  " 

"  Beau  sire, "  resumed  Hastings,  not  heeding  the 
rebuke,  and  strangely  enough  he  proceeded  to  point 
out,  as  the  means  of  destroying  the  earl's  influence,  the 
very  method  that  the  archbishop  had  detailed  to  Mon- 
tagu, as  that  which  would  make  the  influence  irresisti- 
ble and  permanent,  — "  beau  sire, "  resumed  Hastings, 
"  Lord  Warwick  is  beloved  by  the  people,  because  they 
consider  him  maltreated;  he  is  esteemed  by  the  people, 
because  they  consider  him  above  all  bribe ;  he  is  venerated 
by  the  people,  because  they  believe  that  in  all  their  com- 
plaints and  struggles  he  is  independent  (he  alone)  of  the 
king.  Instead  of  love  I  would  raise  envy;  for  instead  of 
cold  countenance  I  would  heap  him  with  grace.     Instead 


46  THE   LAST    OF   THE   BARONS. 

of  esteem  and  veneration  I  would  raise  suspicion ;  for  I 
would  so  knit  him  to  your  house,  that  he  could  not  stir 
hand  or  foot  against  you :  I  would  make  his  heirs  your 
brothers.  The  Duke  of  Clarence  hath  married  one 
daughter,  —  wed  the  other  to  Lord  Richard.  Betroth 
your  young  princess  to  Montagu's  son,  the  representative 
of  all  the  Neviles.  The  earl's  immense  possessions  must 
thus  ultimately  pass  to  your  own  kindred.  The  earl 
himself  will  he  no  longer  a  power  apart  from  the  throne, 
but  a  part  of  it.  The  barons  will  chafe  against  one  who 
half  ceases  to  be  of  their  order,  and  yet  monopolizes 
their  dignities ;  the  people  will  no  longer  see  in  the  earl 
their  champion,  but  a  king's  favorite  and  deputy. 
Neither  barons  nor  people  will  flock  to  his  banner." 

"  All  this  is  well  and  wise, "  said  Edward,  musing ; 
"but  meanwhile  my  queen's  blood, —  am  I  foreign  in 
a  solitude?  —  for  look  you,  Hastings,  you  know  well 
that,  uxorious  as  fools  have  deemed  me,  I  had  purpose 
and  design  in  the  elevation  of  new  families,  I  wished 
to  raise  a  fresh  nobility  to  counteract  the  pride  of  the 
old,  and  only  upon  new  nobles  can  a  new  dynasty 
rely." 

"  My  lord,  I  will  not  anger  you  again ;  but  still,  for 
awhile,  the  queen's  relations  will  do  well  to  retire." 

"  Good-night,  Hastings,"  interrupted  Edward,  abruptly; 
"  my  pillow  in  this  shall  be  my  counsellor. " 

Whatever  the  purpose  solitude  and  reflection  might 
ripen  in  the  king's  mind,  he  was  saved  from  immediate 
decision  by  news,  the  next  morning,  of  fresh  outbreaks. 
The  commons  had  risen  in  Lincolnshire  and  the  county 
of  Warwick ;  and  Anthony  Woodville  wrote  word  that, 
if  the  king  would  but  show  himself  among  the  forces  lie 
bad  raised  near  Coventry,  all  the  gentry  around  would 
rise  against  the  rebellious  rabble.     Seizing  advantage  of 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   B.VEONS.  47 

these  tidings,  borne  to  him  by  his  own  couriers,  and 
eager  to  escape  from  the  uncertain  soldiery  quartered 
at  Olney,  Edward,  without  waiting  to  consult  even 
with  the  earl,  sprang  to  horse,  and  his  trumpets  were 
the  first  signal  of  departure  that  he  deigned  to  any 
one. 

This  want  of  ceremony  displeased  the  pride  of  War- 
wick; but  he  made  no  complaint,  and  took  his  place  by 
the  king's  side,  when  Edward  said,  shortly, — 

"  Dear  cousin,  this  is  a  time  that  needs  all  our  energies. 
I  ride  towards  Coventry,  to  give  head  and  heart  to  the 
raw  recruits  I  shall  find  there :  but  I  pray  you  and  the 
archbishop  to  use  all  means  in  this  immediate  district, 
to  raise  fresh  troops ;  for  at  your  name  armed  men  spring 
up  from  pasture  and  glebe,  dyke  and  hedge.  Join  Avhat 
troops  you  can  collect  in  three  days  with  mine  at  Coven- 
try, and,  ere  the  sickle  is  in  the  harvest,  England  shall 
be  at  peace.  God  speed  you  !  Ho !  there,  gentlemen, 
away !  —  a  franc   etrier  !  " 

Without  pausing  for  reply, —  for  he  wished  to  avoid 
all  questioning,  lest  Warwick  might  discover  that  it 
was  to  a  Woodville  that  he  was  bound,  —  the  king  put 
spurs  to  his  horse,  and,  while  his  men  were  yet  hurrying 
to  and  fro,  rode  on  almost  alone,  and  was  a  good  mile  out 
of  the  town  before  the  force  led  by  St.  John  and  Raoul 
de  Fulke,  and  followed  by  Hastings,  who  held  no  com- 
mand, overtook  him. 

"  I  misthink  the  king, "  said  Wanvick,  gloomily ;  "  but 
my  word  is  pledged  to  the  people,  and  it  shall  be  kept !  ,: 

"  A  man's  word  is  best  kept  when  his  arm  is  the 
strongest,  "  said  the  sententious  archbishop :  "  yesterday, 
you  dispersed  an  army ;  to-day,  raise  one !  " 

Warwick  answered  not,  but,  after  a  moment's  thought, 
beckoned  to  Marmaduke. 


43  THE   LA.ST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"  Kinsman, "  said  he,  "  spur  on,  with  ten  of  my  little 
company,  to  join  the  king.  Report  to  me  if  any  of  the 
Woodvilles  he  in  his  camp  near  Coventry." 

"  Whither  shall  I  send  the  report  1  " 

"  To  my  castle  of  Warwick  !  " 

Marmaduke  howed  his  head,  and,  accustomed  to  the 
brevity  of  the  earl's  speech,  proceeded  to  the  task 
enjoined  him.  Warwick  next  summoned  his  second 
squire. 

"My  lady  and  her  children,"  said  he,  "are  on  their 
way  to  Middleham.  This  paper  will  instruct  you  of 
their  progress.  Join  them  with  all  the  rest  of  my 
troop,  except  my  heralds  and  trumpeters;  and  say  that 
I  shall  meet  them  ere  long  at  Middleham." 

"  It  is  a  strange  way  to  raise  an  army,"  said  the  arch- 
bishop, dryly,  "  to  begin  by  getting  rid  of  all  the  force 
one  possesses!  " 

"Brother,"  answered  the  earl,  "I  would  fain  show 
my  son-in-law,  who  may  he  the  father  of  a  line  of 
kings,  that  a  general  may  be  helpless  at  the  head  of 
thousands,  hut  that  a  man  may  stand  alone  who  has 
the  love  of  a  nation." 

"  May  Clarence  profit  by  the  lesson  !  Where  is  he  all 
this  while  1  " 

"  A-bed, "  said  the  stout  earl,  with  a  slight  accent  of 
disdain ;  and  then,  in  a  softer  voice,  he  added,  —  "  youth 
is  ever  luxurious.     Better  the  slow  man  than  the  false 

one." 

Leaving  Warwick  to  discharge  the  duty  enjoined  him, 
we  follow  the  dissimulating  king. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE  BARONS.  49 


CHAPTEK  VI. 

What  befalls  King  Edward  on  his  Escape  from  Olney. 

As  soon  as  Edward  was  out  of  sight  of  the  spire  of 
Olney,  he  slackened  his  speed,  and  beckoned  Hastings 
to  his  side. 

"  Dear  Will, "  said  the  king,  "  I  have  thought  over 
thy  counsel,  and  will  find  the  occasion  to  make  experi- 
ment thereof.  But,  methinks,  thou  wilt  agree  with 
me,  that  concessions  come  best  from  a  king  who  has 
an  army  of  his  own.  'Fore  Heaven  !  in  the  camp  of  a 
Warwick  I  have  less  power  than  a  lieutenant !  Now 
mark  me.  I  go  to  head  some  recruits  raised  in  haste 
near  Coventry.  The  scene  of  contest  must  be  in  the 
northern  counties.  Wilt  thou,  for  love  of  me,  ride  night 
and  day,  thorough  brake  thorough  brier,  to  Gloucester 
on  the  borders?  Bid  him  march,  if  the  Scot  will  let 
him,  back  to  York;  and  if  he  cannot  himself  quit  the 
borders,  let  him  send  what  men  can  be  spared,  under 
thy  banner.  Failing  this,  raise  through  Yorkshire  all 
the  men-at-arms  thou  canst  collect.  But,  above  all,  see 
Montagu.  Him  and  his  army  secure  at  all  hazards.  If 
he  demur,  tell  him  his  son  shall  marry  his  king's 
daughter,  and  wear  the  coronal  of  a  duke.  Ha!  ha!  a 
large  bait  for  so  large  a  fish!  I  see  this  is  no  casual 
outbreak,  but  a  general  convulsion  of  the  realm;  and 
the  Earl  of  Warwick  must  not  be  the  only  man  to  smile 
or  to  frown  back  the  angry  elements !  " 

VOL.  II. 4 


50  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"In  this,  beau  sire"  answered  Hastings,  "you  speak 
as  a  king  and  a  warrior  should ;  and  I  will  do  my  best  to 
assert  your  royal  motto,  '  Modus  et  ordo.'  If  I  can  but 
promise  that  your  Highness  has  for  awhile  dismissed  the 
Woodville  lords,  rely  upon  it,  that  ere  two  months  I 
will  place  under  your  truncheon  an  army  worthy  of  the 
liege  lord  of  hardy  England." 

"  Go,  dear  Hastings ;  I  trust  all  to  thee !  "  answered 
the  king. 

The  nobleman  kissed  his  sovereign's  extended  hand, 
closed  his  visor,  and,  motioning  to  his  body  squire  to 
follow  him,  disappeared  down  a  green  lane,  avoiding 
such  broader  thoroughfares  as  might  bring  him  in  con- 
tact with  the  officers  left  at  Olney. 

In  a  small  village  near  Coventry,  Sir  Anthony  Wood- 
ville had  collected  about  two  thousand  men,  chiefly 
composed  of  the  tenants  and  vassals  of  the  new  nobility, 
who  regarded  the  brilliant  Anthony  as  their  head.  The 
leaders  were  gallant  and  ambitious  gentlemen,  as  they 
who  arrive  at  fortunes  above  their  birth  mostly  are, — 
but  their  vassals  Avere  little  to  be  trusted.  For  in  that 
day  clanship  was  still  strong,  and  these  followers  had 
been  bred  in  allegiance  to  Lancastrian  lords,  whose  con- 
fiscated estates  were  granted  to  the  Yorkist  favorites. 
The  shout  that  welcomed  the  arrival  of  the  king  was 
therefore  feeble  and  lukewarm, —  and,  disconcerted  by 
so  chilling  a  reception,  he  dismounted,  in  less  elevated 
spirits  than  those  in  which  he  had  left  Olney,  at  the 
pavilion  of  his  brother-in-law. 

The  mourning-dress  of  Anthony,  his  countenance  sad- 
dened by  the  barbarous  execution  of  his  father  and 
brother,  did  not  tend  to  cheer  the  king.  But  Wood- 
ville's  account  of  the  queen's  grief  and  horror  at  the 
afflictions  of  her  house,   and  of  Jacquetta's  indignation 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  51 

at  the  foul  language  which  the  report  of  her  practices 
put  into  the  popular  mouth,  served  to  endear  to  the 
king's  mind  the  family  that  he  considered  unduly  perse- 
cuted. Even  in  the  coldest  breasts  affection  is  fanned 
by  opposition,  and  the  more  the  queen's  kindred  were 
assailed,  the  more  obstinately  Edward  clung  to  them. 
By  suiting  his  humor,  by  winking  at  his  gallantries,  by 
a  submissive  sweetness  of  temper,  which  soothed  his 
own  hasty  moods,  and  contrasted  with  the  rough  pride 
of  Warwick  and  the  peevish  fickleness  of  Clarence,  Eliza- 
beth had  completely  wound  herself  into  the  king's 
heart.  And  the  charming  graces,  the  elegant  accom- 
plishments of  Anthony  Woodville,  were  too  harmonious 
with  the  character  of  Edward,  who  in  all  —  except 
truth  and  honor  —  was  the  perfect  model  of  the  gay 
gentilhomme  of  the  time,  not  to  have  become  almost 
a  necessary  companionship.  Indolent  natures  may  be 
easily  ruled ;  but  they  grow  stubborn  when  their  com- 
forts and  habits  are  interfered  with.  And  the  whole 
current  of  Edward's  merry,  easy  life,  seemed  to  him  to 
lose  flow  and  sparkle,  if  the  faces  he  loved  best  were 
banished,   or  even  clouded. 

He  was  yet  conversing  with  Woodville,  and  yet  assur- 
ing him  that,  however  he  might  temporize,  he  would 
never  abandon  the  interests  of  his  queen's  kindred, — 
when  a  gentleman  entered  aghast,  to  report  that  the 
Lords  St.  John  and  de  Fulke,  on  hearing  that  Sir 
Anthony  Woodville  was  in  command  of  the  forces,  had, 
without  even  dismounting,  left  the  camp,  and  carried 
with  them  their  retainers,  amounting  to  more  than  half 
of  the  little  troop  that  rode  from  Olney. 

"  Let  them  go, "  said  Edward,  frowning ;  "  a  day  shall 
dawn  upon  their  headless  trunks !  " 

"  Oh,  my  king,"  said  Anthony,  now  Earl  of  Rivers, — 


52  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

who,  by  far  the  least  selfish  of  his  house,  was  struck 
with  remorse  at  the  penalty  Edward  paid  for  his  love- 
marriage, —  "  now  that  your  Highness  can  relieve  me  of 
my  command,  let  me  retire  from  the  camp.  I  would 
fain  go  a  pilgrim  to  the  shrine  of  Compostella,  to  pray 
for  my  father's  sins  and  my  sovereign's  weal." 

"  Let  us  first  see  what  forces  arrive  from  London, " 
answered  the  king.  "  Richard  ere  long  will  be  on  the 
march  from  the  frontiers,  and  whatever  Warwick's  re- 
solves, Montagu,  whose  heart  I  hold  in  my  hand,  will 
bring  his  army  to  my  side.      Let  us  wait. " 

But  the  next  day  brought  no  reinforcements,  nor  the 
next;  and  the  king  retired  betimes  to  his  tent,  in  much 
irritation  and  perplexity ;  when  at  the  dead  of  the  night 
he  was  startled  from  slumber  by  the  tramp  of  horses,  the 
sound  of  horns,  the  challenge  of  the  sentinels , —  and,  as 
he  sprang  from  his  couch,  and  hurried  on  his  armor  in 
alarm,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  abruptly  entered.  The  earl's 
face  was  stern,  but  calm  and  sad;  and  Edward's  brave 
heart  beat  loud  as  he  gazed  on  his  formidable  subject. 

"  King  Edward, "  said  Warwick,  slowly  and  mourn- 
fully, "  you  have  deceived  me !  I  promised  to  the 
commons  the  banishment  of  the  Woodvilles,  and  to  a 
Woodville  you  have  flown." 

"  Your  promise  was  given  to  rebels,  with  whom  no 
faith  can  be  held ;  and  I  passed  from  a  den  of  mutiny 
to  the  camp  of  a  loyal  soldier." 

"  We  will  not  now  waste  words,  king,"  answered  War- 
wick. "  Please  you  to  mount,  and  ride  northward. 
The  Scotch  have  gained  great  advantages  on  the  marches. 
The  Duke  of  Gloucester  is  driven  backwards.  All  the 
Lancastrians  in  the  North  have  risen.  Margaret  of 
Anjou  is  on  the  coast  of  Normandy,1  ready  to  set  sail  at 
the  first  decisive  victory  of  her  adherents." 

1  At  this  time,  Margaret  was  at  Horfleur.  —  Will.  Wtre. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAROXS.  53 

"I  am  with  you,"  answered  Edward;  "and  I  rejoice 
to  think  that  at  last  I  may  meet  a  foe.  Hitherto  it 
seems  as  if  I  had  been  chased  by  shadows.  Now  may  I 
hope  to  grasp  the  form  and  substance  of  danger  and  of 
battle." 

"  A  steed  prepared  for  your  grace  awaits  you." 

"  Whither  ride  we  first. " 

"  To  my  castle  of  Warwick,  hard  by.  At  noon  to- 
morrow all  will  be  ready  for  our  northward  march." 

Edward,  by  this  time,  having  armed  himself,  strode 
from  the  tent  into  the  open  air.  The  scene  was  strik- 
ing: the  moon  was  extremely  bright,  and  the  sky 
serene,  but  around  the  tent  stood  a  troop  of  torch- 
bearers,  and  the  red  glare  shone  luridly  upon  the  steel 
of  the  serried  horsemen  and  the  banners  of  the  earl,  in 
which  the  grim  white  bear  was  wrought  upon  an  ebon 
ground,  quartered  with  the  dun  bull,  and  crested  in 
gold  with  the  eagle  of  the  Monthermers.  Far  as  the 
king's  eye  could  reach,  he  saw  but  the  spears  of  War- 
wick; while  a  confused  hum  in  his  own  encampment 
told  that  the  troops  Anthony  Woodville  had  collected 
were  not  yet  marshalled  into  order,  —  Edward  drew 
back. 

"  And  the  Lord  Anthony  of  Scales  and  Rivers, "  said 
he,  hesitatingly. 

"  Choose,  king,  between  the  Lord  Anthony  of  Scales 
and  Rivers,  and  Richard  Neville!  "  answered  Warwick, 
in  a  stern  whisper. 

Edward  paused,  and  at  that  moment  Anthony  him- 
self emerged  from  his  tent  (which  adjoined  the  king's) 
in  company  with  the  Archbishop  of  York,  who  had  rode 
thither  in  Warwick's  train. 

"  My  liege, "  said  that  gallant  knight,  putting  his 
knee    to    the   ground,    "  I   have   heard   from   the    arch- 


54  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAltONS. 

bishop  the  new  perils  that  await  your  Highness,  and  I 
grieve  sorely  that,  in  this  strait,  your  councillors  deem 
it  meet  to  forbid  me  the  glory  of  lighting  or  falling  by 
your  side !  I  know  too  Avell  the  unhappy  odium  attached 
to  my  house  and  name  in  the  northern  parts,  to  dispute 
the  policy  which  ordains  my  absence  from  your  armies. 
Till  these  feuds  are  over,  I  crave  your  royal  leave  to 
quit  England,  and  perform  my  pilgrimage  to  the  sainted 
shrine  of  Compostella. " 

A  burning  flush  passed  ever  the  king's  face,  as  he 
raised  his  brother-in-law,  and  clasped  him  to  his  bosom. 

"  Go  or  stay,  as  you  will,  Anthony  !  "  said  he,  "  but 
let  these  proud  men  know  that  neither  time  nor  absence 
can  tear  you  from  your  king's  heart.  But  envy  must 
have  its  hour!  Lord  Warwick,  I  attend  you;  but,  it 
seems,  rather  as  your  prisoner  than  your  liege." 

Warwick  made  no  answer;  the  king  mounted,  and 
waved  his  hand  to  Anthony.  The  torches  tossed  to 
and  fro,  the  horns  sounded,  and  in  a  silence,  moody 
and  resentful  on  either  part,  Edward  and  his  terrible 
subject  rode  on  to  the  towers  of  Warwick. 

The  next  day,  the  king  beheld,  with  astonishment, 
the  immense  force  that,  in  a  time  so  brief,  the  earl  had 
collected  round  his  standard. 

From  his  casement,  which  commanded  that  lovely 
slope  on  which  so  many  a  tourist  now  gazes  with  an 
eye  that  seeks  to  call  back  the  stormy  and  chivalric 
past,  Edward  beheld  the  earl  on  his  renowned  black 
charger,  reviewing  the  thousands  that,  file  on  file,  and 
rank  on  rank,  lifted  pike  and  lance  in  the  cloudless 
sun. 

"After  all,"  muttered  the  king,  "I  can  never  make 
a  new  noble  a  great  baron!  and  if  in  peace  a  great 
baron  overshadows  the  throne,  in  time  of  war  a  great 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  55 

baron  is  a  throne's  bulwark  !  Graraercy,  I  had  been 
mad  to  cast  away  such  an  army,  — an  army  fit  for  a  king 
to  lead!  They  serve  Warwick  now;  but  Warwick  is 
less  skilful  in  the  martial  art  than  I,  —  and  soldiers,  like 
hounds,  love  best  the  most  dexterous  huntsman." 


56  THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

How  King  Edward  arrives  at  the  Castle  of  Middleham. 

On  the  ramparts  of  feudal  Middleham,  in  the  same 
place  where  Anne  had  confessed  to  Isabel  the  romance 
of  her  childish  love,  again  the  sisters  stood,  awaiting 
the  coming  of  their  father  and  the  king.  They  had 
only,  with  their  mother,  reached  Middleham  two  days 
before,  and  the  preceding  night  an  advanced  guard  had 
arrived  at  the  castle  to  announce  the  approach  of  the 
earl  with  his  royal  comrade  and  visitor.  From  the 
heights,  already  they  beheld  the  long  array  winding 
in  glorious  order  towards  the  mighty  pile. 

"  Look !  "  exclaimed  Isabel,  —  "  look !  already  me- 
thinks  I  see  the  white  steed  of  Clarence.  Yes !  it  is 
he!  it  is  my  George, —  my  husband!  The  banner  borne 
before  shows  his  device." 

"Ah!  happy  Isabel!"  said  Anne,  sighing, — "what 
rapture  to  await  the  coming  of  him  one  loves !  " 

"  My  sweet  Anne, "  returned  Isabel,  passing  her  arm 
tenderly  round  her  sister's  slender  waist,  "  when  thou 
hast  conquered  the  vain  folly  of  thy  childhood,  thou 
wilt  find  a  Clarence  of  thine  own.  And  yet,"  added 
the  young  duchess,  smiling,  "  it  must  be  the  opposite 
of  a  Clarence,  to  be  to  thy  heart  what  a  Clarence  is  to 
mine.  I  love  George's  gay  humor,  — thou  lovest  a 
melancholy  brow.  I  love  that  charming  weakness 
which  supples  to  my  woman  will,  —  thou  lovest  a  proud 
nature  that  may  command  thine  own.  I  do  not  respect 
George  less,  because    I   know   my   mind   stronger  than 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  57 

his  own ;  but  thou  (like  my  gentle  mother)  wouldst 
have  thy  mate,  lord  and  chief  in  all  things,  and  live 
from  his  life  as  the  shadow  from  the  sun.  But  where 
left  you  our  mother  1  " 

"  In  the  oratory,  at  prayer !  " 

"  She  has  been  sad  of  late. " 

"The  dark  times  darken  her;  and  she  ever  fears 
the  king's  falseness  or  caprice  will  stir  the  earl  up  to 
some  rash  emprise.  My  father's  letter,  brought  last 
night  to  her,  contains  something  that  made  her  couch 
sleepless. " 

"  Ha !  "  exclaimed  the  duchess,  eagerly ;  "  my  mother 
confides  in  thee  more  than  me.      Saw  you  the  letter  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Edward  will  make  himself  unfit  to  reign, "  said 
Isabel,  abruptly.  "  The  barons  will  call  on  him  to 
resign ;  and  then  —  and  then,  Anne  —  sister  Anne  — • 
Warwick's  daughters  cannot  be  born  to  be  simple 
subjects  !  " 

"  Isabel,  God  temper  your  ambition !  Oh !  curb 
it!  —  crush  it  down!  Abuse' not  your  influence  with 
Clarence.  Let  not  the  brother  aspire  to  the  brother's 
crown." 

"  Sister,  a  king's  diadem  covers  all  the  sins  schemed  in 
the  head  that  wins  it !  " 

As  the  duchess  spoke,  her  eyes  flashed  and  her  form 
dilated.      Her  beauty  seemed  almost  terrible. 

The  gentle  Anne  gazed  and  shuddered ;  but  ere  she 
found  words  to  rebuke,  the  lovely  shape  of  the  countess- 
mother  was  seen  moving  slowly  towards  them.  She 
was  dressed  in  her  robes  of  state  to  receive  her  kingly 
guest:  the  vest  fitting  high  to  the  throat,  where  it 
joined  the  ermine  tippet,  and  thickly  sown  with  jewels; 
the  sleeves  tight,  with  the  second  or  over  sleeves,  that, 


58  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

loose  and  large,  hung  pendent  and  sweeping  even  to 
the  ground ;  and  the  gown,  velvet  of  crarnousin,  trimmed 
with  ermine,  —  made  a  costume  not  less  graceful  than 
magnificent,  and  which,  where  compressed,  set  off 
the  exquisite  symmetry  of  a  form  still  youthful,  and 
where  flowing,  added  majesty  to  a  beauty  naturally 
rather  soft  and  feminine  than  proud  and  stately.  As 
she  approached  her  children,  she  looked  rather  like 
their  sister  than  their  mother,  as  if  Time,  at  least, 
shrank  from  visiting  harshly  one  for  whom  such  sorrows 
were  reserved! 

The  face  of  the  countess  was  so  sad  in  its  aspect 
of  calm  and  sweet  resignation,  that  even  the  proud 
Isabel  was  touched;  and  kissing  her  mother's  hand, 
she  asked,  "  If  any  ill  tidings  preceded  her  father's 
coming  1  " 

"  Alas,  my  Isabel,  the  times  themselves  are  bad 
tidings!  Your  youth  scarcely  remembers  the  days  when 
brother  fought  against  brother,  and  the  son's  sword  rose 
against  the  father's  breast.  But  I,  recalling  them, 
tremble  to  hear  the  faintest  murmur  that  threatens  a 
civil  war."  She  paused,  and  forcing  a  smile  to  her  lips, 
added,  "  Our  woman  fears  must  not,  however,  sadden 
our  lords  with  an  unwelcome  countenance ;  for  men, 
returning  to  their  hearths,  have  a  right  to  a  wife's  smile: 
and  so,  Isabel,  thou  and  I,  wives  both,  must  forget  the 
morrow  in  to-day.  Hark!  the  trumpets  sound  near  and 
nearer,  — let  us  to  the  hall." 

Before,  however,  they  had  reached  the  castle,  a  shrill 
blast  rang  at  the  outer  gate.  The  portcullis  was  raised ; 
the  young  Duke  of  Clarence,  with  a  bridegroom's  impa- 
tience, spurred  alone  through  the  gloomy  arch,  and 
Isabel,  catching  sight  of  his  countenance,  lifted  towards 
the  ramparts,  uttered  a  cry  and  waved  her  hand.      Clar- 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  59 

ence  heard  and  saw,  leaped  from  his  steed,  and  had 
clasped  Isabel  to  his  breast,  almost  before  Anne  or  the 
countess  had  recognized  the  new-comer. 

Isabel,  however,  always  stately,  recovered  in  an  instant 
from  the  joy  she  felt  at  her  lord's  return,  and  gently 
escaping  his  embrace,  she  glanced  with  a  blush  towards 
the  battlements  crowded  with  retainers ;  Clarence  caught 
and  interpreted  the  look. 

"Well,  belle  mere,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  countess, 
—  "  and  if  yon  faithful  followers  do  witness  with  what 
glee  a  fair  bride  inspires  a  returning  bridegroom,  —  is 
there  cause  for  shame  in  this  cheek  of  damascene  ?  " 

"  Is  the  king  still  with  my  father  1  "  asked  Isabel, 
hastily,  and  interrupting  the  countess's  reply. 

"  Surely,  yes ;  and  hard  at  hand.  And  pardon  me 
that  I  forgot,  dear  lady,  to  say  that  my  royal  brother 
has  announced  his  intention  of  addressing  the  prin- 
cipal officers  of  the  army  in  Middleham  Hall.  This 
news  gave  me  fair  excuse  for  hastening  to  you  and 
Isabel. " 

"  All  is  prepared  for  his  Highness,"  said  the  countess, 
"  save  our  own  homage.  We  must  quicken  our  steps,  — 
come,  Anne." 

The  countess  took  the  arm  of  the  younger  sister,  while 
the  duchess  made  a  sign  to  Clarence ;  he  lingered  behind, 
and  Isabel,  drawing  him  aside,  asked,  — 

"  Is  my  father  reconciled  to  Edward  1  " 

"No;  nor  Edward  to  him." 

"  Good !  The  king  has  no  soldiers  of  his  own  amidst 
yon  armed  train  1  " 

"  Save  a  few  of  Anthony  Woodville's  recruits,  —  none. 
Kaoul  de  Fulke  and  St.  John  have  retired  to  their  towers 
in  sullen  dudgeon.  But  have  you  no  softer  questions  for 
my  return,  bella  mia  ?  " 


60  THE    LAST   OF   THE    BARONS. 

"  Pardon  me,  — many,  my  king." 

"  King  !  " 

"  What  other  name  should  the  successor  of  Edward  IV. 
bear  ?  " 

"  Isabel, "  said  Clarence,  in  great  emotion,  "  what  is  it 
you  would  tempt  me  to?  Edward  IV.  spares  the  life  of 
Henry  VI.,  and  shall  Edward  IV.  's  brother  conspire 
against  his   own  ?  " 

"Saints  forefend!  "  exclaimed  Isabel, — "can  you  so 
wrong  my  honest  meaning  ?  Oh,  George !  can  you  con- 
ceive that  your  wife  —  Warwick's  daughter  —  harbors 
the  thought  of  murder?  No!  Surely  the  career  before 
you  seems  plain  and  spotless !  Can  Edward  reign  \ 
Deserted  by  the  barons,  and  wearing  away  even  my 
father's  long-credulous  love;  odious,  except  in  luxurious 
and  unwarlike  London,  to  all  the  commons, —  how  reign? 
What  other  choice  left  ?  none,  —  save  Henry  of  Lancas- 
ter or  George  of  York. " 

"  Were  it  so,  "  said  the  weak  duke ;  and  yet  he  added, 
falteringly,  —  "  believe  me,  Warwick  meditates  no  such 
changes  in  my  favor.  " 

"  Time  is  a  rapid  ripener, "  answered  Isabel,  —  "  but 
hark,  they  are  lowering  the  drawbridge  for  our  guests." 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   B AEONS.  61 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Ancients   rightly   gave  to   the   Goddess  of  Eloquence,  —  a 

Crown. 

The  lady  of  Warwick  stood  at  the  threshold  of  the 
porch,  which,  in  the  inner  side  of  the  broad  quadrangle, 
admitted  to  the  apartments  used  by  the  family ;  and, 
heading  the  mighty  train  that,  line  after  line,  emerged 
through  the  grim  jaws  of  the  arch,  came  the  earl  on  his 
black  destrier,  and  the  young  king. 

Even  where  she  stood,  the  anxious  Chatelaine  beheld 
the  moody  and  gloomy  air  with  which  Edward  glanced 
around  the  strong  walls  of  the  fortress,  and  up  to  the 
battlements  that  bristled  with  the  pikes  and  sallets  of 
armed  men,  who  looked  on  the  pomp  below,  in  the 
silence  of  military  discipline. 

"  Oh,  Anne  !  "  she  whispered  to  her  youngest  daughter, 
who  stood  beside  her, — "what  are  women  worth  in 
the  strife  of  men  ?  Would  that  our  smiles  could  heal 
the  wounds  which  a  taunt  can  make  in  a  proud  man's 
heart !  " 

Anne,  affected  and  interested  by  her  mother's  words, 
and  with  a  secret  curiosity  to  gaze  upon  the  man  who 
ruled  on  the  throne  of  the  prince  she  loved,  came  nearer 
and  more  in  front,  and  suddenly,  as  he  turned  his  head, 
the  king's  regard  rested  upon  her  intent  eyes  and 
blooming  face. 

"Who  is  that  fair  donzell,  cousin  of  Warwick  1  "  he 
asked. 

"My  daughter,  sire." 


62  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"  Ah  !  your  youngest !  —  I  have  not  seen  her  since 
she  was  a  child." 

Edward  reined  in  his  charger,  and  the  earl  threw 
himself  from  his  selle,  and  held  the  king's  stirrup  to 
dismount.  But  he  did  so  with  a  haughty  and  unsmiling 
visage.  "  I  would  he  the  first,  sire,"  said  he,  with  a 
slight  emphasis,  and,  as  if  excusing  to  himself  his 
condescension,  —  "  to  welcome  to  Middleham  the  son 
of  Duke  Richard." 

"And  your  suzerain,  my  lord  earl,"  added  Edward, 
with  no  less  proud  a  meaning,  and,  leaning  his  hand 
lightly  on  Warwick's  shoulder,  he  dismounted  slowly. 
"Rise  lady,"  he  said,  raising  the  countess,  who  knelt 
at  the  porch,  —  "  and  you  too.  fair  demoiselle.  Pardieu, 
we  envy  the  knee  that  hath  knelt  to  you."  So  saying, 
with  royal  graciousness,  he  took  the  countess's  hand, 
and  they  entered  the  hall  as  the  musicians,  in  the 
gallery  raised  ahove,  rolled  forth  their  stormy  welcome. 

The  archbishop,  who  had  followed  close  to  Warwick 
and  the  king,  whispered  now  to  his  brother,  — 

"  Why  would  Edward  address  the  captains?  " 

"  I  know  not. " 

"  He  hath  made  himself  familiar  with  many  in  the 
march." 

"  Familiarity  with  a  steel  casque  better  becomes  a 
king  than  waisall  with  a  greasy  flat-cap." 

"  You  do  not  fear  lest  he  seduce  from  the  White  Bear 
its  retainers  1  " 

"As  well  fear  that  he  can  call  the  stars  from  their 
courses  around  the  sun." 

While  these  words  were  interchanged,  the  countess 
conducted  the  king  to  a  throne-chair,  raised  upon  the 
dais,  by  the  side  of  which  were  placed  two  seats  of  state, 
and,  from  the  dais,  at  the  same  time,  advanced  the  Duke 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAEONS.  63 

and  Duchess  of  Clarence.  The  king  prevented  their 
kneeling,  and  kissed  Isabel  slightly  and  gravely  on  the 
forehead.  "  Thus,  noble  lady,  I  greet  the  entrance  of 
the  Duchess  of  Clarence  into  the  royalty  of  England." 

Without  pausing  for  reply,  he  passed  on  and  seated 
himself  on  the  throne,  while  Isabel  and  her  husband 
took  possession  of  the  state  chairs  on  either  hand.  At 
a  gesture  of  the  king's,  the  countess  and  Anne  placed 
themselves  on  seats  less  raised,  but  still  upon  the  dais. 
But  now,  as  Edward  sat,  the  hall  grew  gradually  full 
of  lords  and  knights,  who  commanded  in  Warwick's 
train,  while  the  earl  and  the  archbishop  stood  mute  in 
the  centre,  the  one  armed  cap-a-pie,  leaning  on  his 
sword,  the  other  with  his  arms  folded  in  his  long 
robes. 

The  king's  eye,  clear,  steady,  and  majestic,  roved 
round  that  martial  audience,  worthy  to  be  a  monarch's 
war-council,  and  not  one  of  whom  marched  under  a 
monarch's  banner!  Their  silence,  their  discipline,  the 
splendor  of  their  arms,  the  greater  splendor  of  their 
noble  names,  contrasted  painfully  with  the  little  muti- 
nous camp  of  Olney,  and  the  surly,  untried  recruits  of 
Anthony  Woodville.  But  Edward,  whose  step,  whose 
form,  whose  aspect,  proclaimed  the  man  conscious  of  his 
rights  to  be  lord  of  all,  betrayed  not  to  those  around 
him  the  kingly  pride,  the  lofty  grief  that  swelled  within 
his  heart.  Still  seated,  he  raised  his  left  hand  to  com- 
mand silence  ,•  with  the  right  he  replaced  his  plumed 
cap  upon  his  brow. 

"Lords  and  gentlemen,"  he  said  (arrogating  to  him- 
self at  once,  as  a  thing  of  course,  that  gorgeous  following), 
"  we  have  craved  leave  of  our  host  to  address  to  you  some 
words,  —  words  which  it  pleases  a  king  to  utter,  and 
which  may  not  be  harsh  to  the  ears  of  a  loyal  subject. 


64  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

Nor  will  we,  at  this  great  current  of  unsteady  fortune, 
make  excuse,  noble  ladies,  to  you,  that  we  speak  of  war 
to  knighthood,  which  is  ever  the  sworn  defender  of  the 
daughter  and  the  wife :  —  the  daughters  and  the  wife  of 
our  cousin  Warwick  have  too  much  of  hero-blood  in 
their  blue  veins  to  grow  pale  at  the  sight  of  heroes. 
Comrades  in  arms!  thus  far  towards  our  foe  upon  the 
frontiers  we  have  marched,  without  a  sword  drawn  or 
an  arrow  launched  from  an  archer's  bow.  We  believe 
that  a  blessing  settles  on  the  head  of  a  true  king,  and 
that  the  trumpet  of  a  good  angel  goes  before  his  path, 
announcing  the  victory  which  awaits  him.  Here,  in 
the  hall  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  our  captain-general, 
we  thank  you  for  your  cheerful  countenance,  and  your 
loyal  service;  and  here,  as  befits  a  king,  we  promise  to 
you  those  honors  a  king  alone  worthily  can  bestow. "  He 
paused,  and  his  keen  eye  glanced  from  chief  to  chief  as 
he  resumed:  "  We  are  informed  that  certain  misguided 
and  traitor  lords  have  joined  the  Rose  of  Lancaster. 
Whoever  so  doth  is  attainted,  life  and  line,  evermore! 
His  lands  and  dignities  are  forfeit  to  enrich  and  to 
ennoble  the  men  who  strike  for  me.  Heaven  grant  I 
may  have  foes  eno'  to  reward  all  my  friends !  To  every 
baron  who  owns  Edward  IV.  king  (ay,  and  not  king 
in  name,  — king  in  banquet  and  in  bower,  — but  leader 
and  captain  in  the  war),  I  trust  to  give  a  new  barony; 
to  every  knight  a  new  knight's  fee;  to  every  yeoman 
a  hyde  of  land ;  to  every  soldier  a  year's  pay.  What 
more  I  can  do,  let  it  be  free  for  any  one  to  suggest, — 
for  my  domains  of  York  are  broad,  and  my  heart  is 
larger  still  !  " 

A  murmur  of  applause  and  reverence  went  round. 
Vowed,  as  those  warriors  were,  to  the  earl,  they  felt 
that  a  monarch  was  amongst  them. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  65 

"  What  say  you,  then  1  We  are  ripe  for  glory.  Three 
days  will  we  halt  at  Middleham,  guest  to  our  noble 
subject." 

"Three  days,  sire!"  repeated  Warwick,  in  a  voice 
of  surprise. 

"Yes;  and  this,  fair  cousin,  and  ye,  lords  and 
gentlemen,  is  my  reason  for  the  delay.  I  have  de- 
spatched Sir  William,  Lord  de  Hastings,  to  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  with  command  to  join  us  here "  (the 
archbishop  started,  but  instantly  resumed  his  earnest, 
placid  aspect),  — "  to  the  Lord  Montagu,  Earl  of  North- 
umberland, to  muster  all  the  vassals  of  our  shire  of 
York.  As  three  streams  that  dash  into  the  ocean,  shall 
our  triple  army  meet  and  rush  to  the  war.  Not  even, 
gentlemen,  not  even  to  the  great  Earl  of  Warwick  will 
Edward  IV.  be  so  beholden  for  roiaulme  and  renown, 
as  to  march  but  a  companion  to  the  conquest.  If  ye 
were  raised  in  Warwick's  name,  not  mine,  —  why,  be  it 
so  !  I  envy  him  such  friends;  but  I  will  have  an  army 
of  mine  own,  to  show  mine  English  soldiery  how  a 
Plantagenet  battles  for  his  crown.  Gentlemen,  ye  are 
dismissed  to  your  repose.  In  three  days  we  march ! 
and  if  any  of  you  know  in  these  fair  realms  the  man, 
be  he  of  York  or  Lancaster,  more  fit  to  command  brave 
subjects  than  he  who  now  addresses  you,  I  say  to  that 
man,  —  turn  rein,  and  leave  us!  Let  tyrants  and  cow- 
ards enforce  reluctant  service, — any  crown  was  won 
by  the  hearts  of  my  people !  Girded  by  those  hearts, 
let  me  reign,  —  or,  mourned  by  them,  let  me  fall!  So 
God  and  St.  George  favor  me  as  I  speak  the  truth !  " 

And  as  the  king  ceased,  he  uncovered  his  head,  and 
kissed  the  cross  of  his  sword.  A  thrill  went  through 
the  audience.  Many  were  there,  disaffected  to  his 
person,    and   whom    Warwick's    influence    alone   could 

VOL.  II.  —  5 


6Q  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

have  roused  to  arms;  but,  at  the  close  of  an  address, 
spirited  and  royal  in  itself,  and  borrowing  thousand- 
fold effect  by  the  voice  and  mien  of  the  speaker,  no 
feeling  but  that  of  enthusiastic  loyalty,  of  almost  tearful 
admiration,  was  left  in  those  steel-clad  breasts. 

As  the  king  lifted  on  high  the  cross  of  his  sword, 
every  blade  leaped  from  its  scabbard,  and  glittered  in 
the  air;  and  the  dusty  banners  in  the  hall  waved,  as  to 
a  mighty  blast,  when,  amidst  the  rattle  of  armor,  burst 
forth  the  universal  cry,  "  Long  live  Edward  IV. !  Long 
live  the  king  !  " 

The  sweet  countess,  even  amidst  the  excitement,  kept 
her  eyes  anxiously  fixed  on  Warwick,  whose  counte- 
nance, however,  shaded  by  the  black  plumes  of  his 
casque,  though  the  visor  was  raised,  revealed  nothing 
of  his  mind.  Her  daughters  were  more  powerfully 
affected;  for  Isabel's  intellect  was  not  so  blinded  by 
her  ambition ,  but  that  the  kingliness  of  Edward  forced 
itself  upon  her  with  a  might  and  solemn  weight,  which 
crushed,  for  the  moment,  her  aspiring  hopes. — Was 
this  the  man  unfit  to  reign  1  This  the  man  voluntarily 
to  resign  a  crown  1  This  the  man  whom  George  of 
Clarence,  without  fratricide,  could  succeed?  No!  — 
there  spoke  the  soul  of  the  First  and  the  Third 
Edward!  There  shook  the  mane,  and  there  glowed 
the  eye,  of  the  indomitable  lion  of  the  august  Plan- 
tagenets!  And  the  same  conviction,  rousing  softer  and 
holier  sorrow,  sat  on  the  heart  of  Anne:  she  saw,  as  for 
the  first  time,  clearly  before  her,  the  awful  foe  with 
whom  her  ill-omened  and  beloved  prince  had  to  struggle 
for  his  throne.  In  contrast  beside  that  form,  in  the 
prime  of  manly  youth,  — a  giant  in  its  strength,  a  god 
in  its  beauty,  —  rose  the.  delicate  shape  of  the  melan- 
choly boy  who,  .afar  in  exile,  coupled  in  his  dreams  the 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAKONS.  67 

sceptre  and  the  bride !  By  one  of  those  mysteries  which 
magnetism  seeks  to  explain,  in  the  strong  intensity  of 
her  emotions,  in  the  tremor  of  her  shaken  nerves,  fear 
seemed  to  grow  prophetic.  A  stream  as  of  blood  rose 
up  from  the  dizzy  floors.  The  image  of  her  young 
prince,  bound  and  friendless,  stood  before  the  throne 
of  that  warrior-king.  In  the  waving  glitter  of  the 
countless  swords  raised  on  high,  she  saw  the  murderous 
blade  against  the  boy-heir  of  Lancaster  descend  — 
descend!  Her  passion,  her  terror,  at  the  spectre  which 
fancy  thus  evoked,  seized  and  overcame  her;  and  ere 
the  last  hurrah  sent  its  hollow  echo  to  the  raftered 
roof,  she  sank  from  her  chair  to  the  ground,  hueless 
and  insensible  as  the  dead. 

The  king  had  not  without  design  permitted  the 
unwonted  presence  of  the  women  in  this  warlike 
audience.  Partly  because  he  was  not  unaware  of  the 
ambitious  spirit  of  Isabel,  partly  because  he  counted 
on  the  affection  shown  to  his  boyhood  by  the  countess, 
who  was  said  to  have  singular  influence  over  her  lord, 
but  principally  because  in  such  a  presence  he  trusted  to 
avoid  all  discussion  and  all  questioning,  and  to  leave 
the  effect  of  his  eloquence,  in  which  he  excelled  all  his 
contemporaries,  Gloucester  alone  excepted,  single  and 
unimpaired;  and,  therefore,  as  he  rose,  and  returned 
with  a  majestic  bend  the  acclamation  of  the  warriors, 
his  eye  now  turned  towards  the  chairs  where  the  ladies 
sat,  and  he  was  the  first  to  perceive  the  swoon  of  the 
fair  Anne. 

With  the  tender  grace  that  always  characterized  his 
service  to  women,  he  descended  promptly  from  his 
throne,  and  raised  the  lifeless  form  in  his  stalwart 
arms;  and  Anne,  as  he  bent  over  her,  looked  so 
strangely  lovely,  in  her  marble  stillness,  that  even  in 


68  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

that  hour  a  sudden  thrill  shot  through  a  heart  always 
susceptible  to  beauty,  as  the  harp-string  to  the  breeze. 

"It  is  but  the  heat,  lady,"  said  he  to  the  alarmed 
countess;  "  and  let  me  hope  that  interest  which  my  fair 
kinswoman  may  take  in  the  fortunes  of  Warwick  and  of 
York,  hitherto  linked  together  —  " 

"May  they  ever  be  so!"  said  Warwick,  who,  on 
seeing  his  daughter's  state,  had  advanced  hastily  to  the 
dais;  and,  moved  by  the  king's  words,  his  late  speech, 
the  evils  that  surrounded  his  throne,  the  gentleness 
shown  to  the  beloved  Anne,  forgetting  resentment  and 
ceremony  alike,  he  held  out  his  mailed  hand.  The 
king,  as  he  resigned  Anne  to  her  mother's  arms,  grasped 
with  soldierly  frankness,  and  with  the  ready  wit  of  the 
cold  intellect  which  reigned  beneath  the  warm  manner, 
the  hand  thus  extended,  and  holding  still  that  iron 
gauntlet  in  his  own  ungloved  and  jewelled  fingers,  he 
advanced  to  the  verge  of  the  dais,  to  which,  in  the 
confusion  occasioned  by  Anne's  swoon,  the  principal 
officers  had  crowded,   and  cried  aloud, — 

"Behold!  Warwick  and  Edward  thus  hand  in  hand, 
as  they  stood  when  the  clarions  sounded  the  charge  at 
Touton!  and  that  link,  what  swords,  forged  on  a  mortal's 
anvil,  can  rend  or  sever?  " 

In  an  instant  every  knee  there  knelt;  and  Edward 
exultingly  beheld  that  what  before  had  been  allegiance 
to  the  earl  was  now  only  homage  to  the  king ! 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  69 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Wedded  Confidence  and  Love  —  the  Earl  and  the  Prelate  —  the 
Prelate  and  the  King  —  Schemes  —  Wiles  —  and  the  Birth  of  a 
dark  Thought  destined  to  eclipse  a  Sun. 

While,  preparatory  to  the  banquet,  Edward,  as  was 
then  the  daily  classic  custom,  relaxed  his  fatigues, 
mental  or  bodily,  in  the  hospitable  bath,  the  archbishop 
sought  the  closet  of  the  earl. 

"  Brother,"  said  he,  throwing  himself  with  some 
petulance  into  the  only  chair  the  room,  otherwise 
splendid,  contained,  "  when  you  left  me,  to  seek 
Edward  in  the  camp  of  Anthony  Woodville,  what 
was  the  understanding  between  us  1  " 

"  I  know  of  none,"  answered  the  earl,  who,  having 
doffed  his  armor,  and  dismissed  his  squires,  leaned 
thoughtfully  against  the  wall,  dressed  for  the  banquet, 
with  the  exception  of  the  short  surcoat,  which  lay 
glittering  on  the  taboret. 

"You  know  of  none?  Reflect!  Have  you  brought 
hither  Edward  as  a  guest  or  as  a  prisoner  1  " 

The  earl  knit  his  brows,  —  "A  prisoner,  archbishop!  " 

The  prelate  regarded  him  with  a  cold  smile. 

"  Warwick,  you  who  would  deceive  no  other  man,  now 
seek  to  deceive  yourself."  The  earl  drew  back,  and  his 
hardy  countenance  grew  a  shade  paler.  The  prelate 
resumed,  "  You  have  carried  Edward  from  his  camp, 
and  severed  him  from  his  troops;  you  have  placed  him 
in  the  midst  of  your  own  followers,  you  have  led  him 
chafing  and  resentful  all  the  way,  to  this  impregnable 
keep;  and  you  now  pause,  amazed  by  the  grandeur  of 


70  THE  LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

i 
your  captive :  a  man  who  leads  to  his  home  a  tiger,  —  a 

spider  who  has  entangled  a  hornet  in  its  web  —  " 

"Nay,  reverend  brother,"  said  the  earl,  calmly,  "ye 
churchmen  never  know  what  passes  in  the  hearts  of 
those  who  feel  and  do  not  scheme.  When  I  learned 
that  the  king  had  fled  to  the  Woodvilles,  —  that  he  was 
bent  upon  violating  the  pledge  given  in  las  name  to  the 
insurgent  commons,  —  I  vowed  that  he  should  redeem 
my  honor  and  his  own,  or  that  forever  I  would  quit  his 
service.  And  here,  within  these  walls  which  sheltered 
his  childhood,  I  trusted,  and  trust  still,  to  make  one 
last  appeal  to  his  better  reason." 

''  For  all  that,  men  now,  and  history  hereafter,  will 
consider  Edward  as  your  captive." 

'  To  living  men,  my  words  and  deeds  can  clear  them- 
selves; and  as  for  history,  let  clerks  and  scholars  fool 
themselves  in  the  lies  of  parchment!  He  who  has  acted 
history,  despises  the  gownsmen  who  sit  in  cloistered 
ease,  and  write  about  what  they  know  not."  The  earl 
paused,  and  then  continued,  "  I  confess,  however,  that 
I  have  had  a  scheme.  I  have  wished  to  convince  the 
king  how  little  his  mushroom  lords  can  bestead  him  in 
the  storm;  and  that  lie  holds  his  crown  only  from  his 
barons  and  his  people. " 

"  That  is,  from  the  Lord  Warwick!  " 

"  Perhaps  I  am  the  personation  of  both  seignorie  and 
people;  but  I  design  this  solely  for  his  welfare.  Ah, 
the  gallant  prince,  —  how  well  he  bore  himself  to-day  !  " 

"  Ay,  when  stealing  all  hearts  from  thee  to  him." 

'  And,  Vice  Dieu,  I  never  loved  him  so  well  as  when 
he  did!  Methinks  it  was  for  a  day  like  this  that  I 
reared  his  youth  and  achieved  his  crown.  Oh,  priest, 
priest,  thou  mistakest  me.  I  am  rash,  hot,  haughty, 
hasty ;  and  I  love  not  to  bow  my  knees  to  a  man  because 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  71 

they  call  him  king,  if  his  life  be  vicious,  and  his  word 
be  false.  But,  could  Edward  be  ever  as  to-day,  then 
indeed  should  I  hail  a  sovereign  whom  a  baron  may 
reverence  and  a  soldier  serve!" 

Before  the  archbishop  could  reply,  the  door  gently 
opened,  and  the  countess  appeared.  Warwick  seemed 
glad  of  the  interruption;  he  turned  quickly,  —  "And 
how  fares  my  child  1  " 

"  Recovered  from  her  strange  swoon,  and  ready  to 
smile  at  thy  return.  Oh,  Warwick,  thou  art  reconciled 
to  the  king!" 

"  That  glads  thee,  sister?  "  said  the  archbishop. 

"  Surely.      Is  it  not  for  my  lord's  honor  1  " 

"  May  he  find  it  so!  "  said  the  prelate,  and  he  left  the 
room. 

"  My  priest-brother  is  chafed,"  said  the  earl,  smiling. 
"Pity,  he  was  not  born  a  trader,  he  would  have  made  a 
shrewd  hard  bargain.  —  Verily,  our  priests  burn  the 
Jews  out  of  envy!  Ah,  rri'ami,  how  fair  thou  art 
to-day!  Methinks  even  Isabel's  cheek  less  blooming." 
And  the  warrior  drew  the  lady  towards  him  and  smoothed 
her  hair,  and  tenderly  kissed  her  brow.  "  My  letter 
vexed  thee,  I  know,  for  thou  lovest  Edward,  and  blamest 
me  not  for  my  love  to  him.  It  is  true  that  he  hath 
paltered  with  me,  and  that  I  had  stern  resolves,  not 
against  his  crown,  but  to  leave  him  to  his  fate,  and  in 
these  halls  to  resign  my  charge.  But  while  he  spoke, 
and  while  he  looked,  methought  I  saw  his  mother's 
face,  and  heard  his  dear  father's  tones,  and  the  past 
rushed  over  me,  and  all  wrath  was  gone.  Sonless 
myself,  why  would  lie  not  be  my  son  1  "  The  earl's 
voice  trembled,  and  the  tears  stood  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"  Speak  thus,  dear  lord,  to  Isabel,  for  I  fear  her 
over-vaulting  spirit  —  " 


72  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

"Ah,  had  Isabel  been  his  wife!"  he  paused  and 
moved  away.  Then,  as  if  impatient  to  escape  the 
thoughts  that  tended  to  an  ungracious  recollection,  he 
added, — "and  now,  sweetheart,  these  slight  fingers 
have  ofttimes  buckled  on  my  mail,  let  them  place  on 
my  breast  this  badge  of  St.  George's  chivalry;  and,  if 
angry  thoughts  return,  it  shall  remind  me  that  the  day 
on  which  I  wore  it  first,  Richard  of  York  said  to  his 
young  Edward,  '  Look  to  that  star,  boy,  if  ever,  in  cloud 
and  trouble,  thou  wouldst  learn  what  safety  dwells  in 
the  heart  which  never  knew  deceit.'  " 

During  the  banquet,  the  king,  at  whose  table  sat  only 
the  Duke  of  Clarence  and  the  earl's  family,  was  gracious 
as  day  to  all,  but  especially  to  the  Lady  Anne,  attribut- 
ing her  sudden  illness  to  some  cause  not  unflattering  to 
himself;  her  beauty,  which  somewhat  resembled  that  of 
the  queen,  save  that  it  had  more  advantage  of  expres- 
sion and  of  youth,  was  precisely  of  the  character  he 
most  admired.  Even  her  timidity,  and  the  reserve  with 
which  she  answered  him,  had  their  charms;  for,  like 
many  men,  themselves  of  imperious  nature  and  fiery 
will,  he  preferred  even  imbecility  in  a  woman  to  what- 
ever was  energetic  or  determined ;  and  hence  perhaps 
his  indifference  to  the  more  dazzling  beauty  of  Isabel. 
After  the  feast,  the  numerous  demoiselles,  high-born 
and  fair,  who  swelled  the  more  than  regal  train  of  the 
countess,  were  assembled  in  the  long  gallery,  which  was 
placed  in  the  third  story  of  the  castle,  and  served  for 
the  principal  state  apartment.  The  dance  began;  but 
Isabel  excused  herself  from  the  pavon,  and  the  king  led 
out  the  reluctant  and  melancholy  Anne. 

The  proud  Isabel,  who  had  never  forgiven  Edward's 
slight  to  herself,  resented  deeply  his  evident  admiration 
of  her  sister,  and  conversed  apart  with  the  archbishop, 


THE   LAST   OF   THE  BARONS.  73 

whose  subtle  craft  easily  drew  from  her  lips  confessions 
of  an  ambition  higher  even  than  his  own.  He  neither 
encouraged  nor  dissuaded ;  he  thought  there  were  things 
more  impossible  than  the  accession  of  Clarence  to  the 
throne,  but  he  was  one  who  never  plotted,  —  save  for 
himself  and  for  the  church. 

As  the  revel  waned,  the  prelate  approached  the  earl, 
who,  with  that  remarkable  courtesy  which  charmed 
those  below  his  rank,  and  contrasted  with  his  haughti- 
ness  to  his  peers,  had  well  played  amongst  his  knights 
the  part  of  host,  and  said,  in  a  whisper,  "  Edward  is  in 
a  happy  mood,  —  let  us  lose  it  not.  Will  you  trust  me 
to  settle  all  differences,  ere  he  sleep?  Two  proud  men 
never  can  agree  without  a  third  of  a  gentler  temper." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Warwick,  smiling;  "yet  the 
danger  is,  that  I  should  rather  concede  too  much,  than 
be  too  stubborn.  But  look  you;  all  I  demand  is,  sat- 
isfaction to  mine  own  honor,  and  faith  to  the  army  I 
disbanded  in  the  king's  name." 

"  All!  "  muttered  the  archbishop,  as  he  turned  away, 
"but  that  all  is  everything  to  provoke  quarrel  for  you, 
and  nothing  to  bring  power  to  vie!  " 

The  earl  and  the  archbishop  attended  the  king  to  his 
chamber,  and  after  Edward  was  served  with  the  parting 
refection,  or  livery,  the  earl  said,  with  his  most  open 
smile,  "Sire,  there  are  yet  affairs  between  us;  whom 
will  you  confer  with,  —  me  or  the  archbishop?" 

"Oh!  the  archbishop,  by  all  means,  fair  cousin," 
cried  Edward,  no  less  frankly;  "for  if  you  and  I  are 
left  alone,  the  Saints  help  both  of  us!  — when  flint  and 
steel  meet,  fire  flies,  and  the  house  may  burn." 

The  earl  half  smiled  at  the  candor  —  half  sighed  at 
the  levity  —  of  the  royal  answer,  and  silently  left  the 
room.     The  king,  drawing  round  him  his  loose  dressing- 


74  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

robe,  threw  himself  upon  the  gorgeous  coverlid  of  the 
bed,  and  lying  at  lazy  length,  motioned  to  the  prelate 
to  seat  himself  at  the  foot.  The  archbishop  obeyed. 
Edward  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and,  by  the  light 
of  seven  gigantic  tapers,  set  in  sconces  of  massive  silver, 
the  priest  and  the  king  gravely  gazed  on  each  other, 
without  speaking. 

At  last  Edward,  bursting  into  his  hale,  clear,  silvery 
laugh,  said,  "  Confess,  dear  sir  and  cousin,  —  confess 
that  we  are  like  two  skilful  masters  of  Italian  fence, 
each  fearing  to  lay  himself  open  by  commencing  the 
attack. " 

"  Certes,"  quoth  the  archbishop,  "your  Grace  over- 
estimates my  vanity,  in  opining  that  I  deemed  myself 
equal  to  so  grand  a  duello.  If  there  were  dispute 
between  us,  I  should  only  win  by  baring  my  bosom." 

The  king's  bow-like  lip  curved  with  a  slight  sneer, 
quickly  replaced  by  a  serious  and  earnest  expression, — 
"  Let  us  leave  word-making,  and  to  the  point,  George. 
Warwick  is  displeased  because  I  will  not  abandon  my 
wife's  kindred;  you,  with  more  reason,  because  I  have 
taken  from  your  hands  the  chancellor's  great  seal  —  " 

"  For  myself,  I  humbly  answer  that  your  Grace 
errs.  I  never  coveted  other  honors  than  those  of  the 
church. " 

"  Ay,"  said  Edward,  keenly  examining  the  young 
prelate's  smooth  face,  "  is  it  sol  Yes,  now  I  begin  to 
comprehend  thee.  What  offence  have  I  given  to  the 
church  1  Have  I  suffered  the  law  too  much  to  sleep 
against  the  Lollards'?     If  so,  blame  Warwick." 

"On  the  contrary,  sire,  unlike  other  priests,  I  have 
ever  deemed  that  persecution  heals  no  schism.  Blow 
not  dying  embers.  Rather  do  I  think  of  late  that  too 
much  severity  hath  helped  to  aid,  by  Lollard  bows  and 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  75 

pikes,  the  late  rising.  My  lady  the  queen's  mother, 
unjustly  accused  of  witchcraft,  hath  sought  to  clear 
herself,  and  perhaps  too  zealously  in  exciting  your  grace 
against  that  invisible  giant,  —  ycleped  heresy." 

"Pass  on,"  said  Edward.  "It  is  not,  then,  indiffer- 
ence to  the  ecclesia  that  you  complain  of.  Is  it  neglect 
of  the  ecclesiastic?  Ha!  ha!  you  and  I,  though  young, 
know  the  colors  that  make  itp  the  patchwork  world. 
Archbishop,  I  love  an  easy  life ;  if  your  brother  and 
his  friends  will  but  give  me  that,  let  them  take  all  else. 
Again  I  say,  to  the  point,  —  I  cannot  banish  my  lady's 
kindred,  but  1  will  bind  your  house  still  more  to  mine. 
I  have  a  daughter,  failing  male  issue,  the  heiress  to  my 
crown.  I  will  betroth  her  to  your  nephew,  my  beloved 
Montagu's  son.  They  are  children  yet,  but  their  ages 
not  unsuited.  And  when  I  return  to  London,  3roung 
Nevile  shall  be  Duke  of  Bedford,  a  title  hitherto  re- 
served to  the  royal  race.1  Let  that  be  a  pledge  of  peace 
between  the  queen's  mother,  bearing  the  same  honors, 
and  the  house  of  Nevile,   to  which  they  pass." 

The  cheek  of  the  archbishop  flushed  with  proud 
pleasure;  he  bowed  his  head,  and  Edward,  ere  he 
could  answer,  went  on,  "  Warwick  is  already  so  high 
that,  pardie,  I  have  no  other  step  to  give  him  save 
my  throne  itself,  and,  God's  truth,  I  would  rather  be 
Lord  Warwick   than  King  of  England!     But  for  you, 

—  listen:  our  only  English  cardinal  is  old  and  sickly, 

—  whenever  he  pass  to  Abraham's  bosom,  who  but  you 
should  have  the  suffrage  of  the  holy  college  1  Thou 
knowest  that  I  am  somewhat  in  the  good  favor  of  the 


o^ 


1  And  indeed  there  was  but  one  Yorkist  duke  then  in  England 
out  of  the  royal  family,  —  namely,  the  young  boy  Buckingham,  who 
afterwards  vainly  sought  to  bend  the  Ulysses  bow  of  Warwick 
against  Richard  III. 


76  THE    LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

sovereign  pontiff.  Command  me  to  the  utmost.  Now, 
George,  are  we  friends?" 

The  archbishop  kissed  the  gracious  hand  extended  to 
him,  and,  surprised  to  find,  as  by  magic,  all  his  schemes 
frustrated  by  sudden  acquiescence  in  the  objects  of  them 
all,  his  voice  faltered  with  real  emotion  as  he  gave  vent 
to  his  gratitude.  But  abruptly  he  checked  himself,  his 
brow  lowered,  and  with  a  bitter  remembrance  of  his 
brother's  plain,  blunt  sense  of  honor,  he  said,  "  Yet, 
alas,  my  liege,  in  all  this  there  is  nought  to  satisfy  our 
stubborn  host." 

"By  dear  Saint  George  and  my  father's  head!" 
exclaimed  Edward,  reddening,  and  starting  to  his  feet, 
"  what  would  the  man  have  1  " 

"You  know,"  answered  the  archbishop,  "that  War- 
wick's pride  is  only  roused  when  he  deems  his  honor 
harmed.  Unhappily,  as  he  thinks  by  your  Grace's  full 
consent,  he  pledged  himself  to  the  insurgents  of  Olney 
to  the  honorable  dismissal  of  the  lords  of  the  Woodville 
race.  And  unless  this  be  conceded,  I  fear  me  that  all 
else  he  will  reject,  and  the  love  between  ye  can  be  but 
hollow!" 

Edward  took  but  three  strides  across  the  chamber, 
and  then  halted  opposite  the  archbishop,  and  laid  both 
hands  on  his  shoulders,  as,  looking  him  full  in  the  face, 
he  said,  "  Answer  me  frankly,  am  I  a  prisoner  in  these 
towers,  or  not? " 

"Not,  sire." 

"  You  palter  with  me,  priest.  I  have  been  led  hither 
against  my  will.  I  am  almost  without  an  armed  retinue. 
1  am  at  the  earl's  mercy.  This  chamber  might  be  my 
grave,   and  this  couch   my  bed  of  death." 

"Holy  mother!  Can  you  think  so  of  Warwick? 
Sire,  you  freeze  my  blood." 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  77 

"  Well,  then,  if  I  refuse  to  satisfy  Warwick's  pride, 
and  disdain  to  give  up  loyal  servants  to  rebel  insolence, 
what  will  Warwick  do?     Speak  out,  archbishop." 

"  I  fear  me,  sire,  that  he  will  resign  all  office,  whether 
of  peace  or  war.  I  fear  me  that  the  goodly  army  now  at 
sleep  within  and  around  these  walls  will  vanish  into 
air,  and  that  your  Highness  will  stand  alone  amidst 
new  men,  and  against  the  disaffection  of  the  whole 
land !  " 

Edward's  firm  hand  trembled.  The  prelate  con- 
tinued, with  a  dry,   caustic  smile,  — 

"  Sire,  Sir  Anthony  Woodville,  now  Lord  Rivers, 
has  relieved  you  of  all  embarrassment;  no  doubt,  my 
Lord  Dorset  and  his  kinsmen  will  be  chevaliers  enough 
to  do  the  same.  The  Duchess  of  Bedford  will  but  suit 
the  decorous  usage  to  retire  awhile  into  privacy,  to 
mourn  her  widowhood.  And  when  a  year  is  told,  if 
these  noble  persons  reappear  at  court,  your  word  and 
the  earl's  will  at  least  have  been  kept." 

"I  understand  thee,"  said  the  king,  half  laughing; 
"  but  I  have  my  pride  as  well  as  Warwick.  To  concede 
this  point  is  to  humble  the  conceder. " 

"  I  have  thought  how  to  soothe  all  things,  and  without 
humbling  either  party.  Your  Grace's  mother  is  dearly 
beloved  by  Warwick,  and  revered  by  all.  Since  your 
marriage  she  hath  lived  secluded  from  all  state  affairs. 
As  so  nearly  akin  to  Warwick,  —  so  deeply  interested 
in  your  Grace,  —  she  is  a  fitting  mediator  in  all  dis- 
putes.     Be  they  left  to  her  to  arbitrate." 

"Ah!  cunning  prelate,  thou  knowest  how  my  proud 
mother  hates  the  Woodvilles,  —  thou  knowest  how  her 
judgment  will  decide." 

"  Perhaps  so ;  but  at  least  your  grace  will  be  spared 
all  pain  and  all  abasement." 


78  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"  Will  Warwick  consent  to  this  1  " 

"I  trust  so." 

"  Learn,  and  report  to  me.  Enough  for  to-night's 
conference." 

Edward  was  left  alone,  and  his  mind  ran  rapidly  over 
the  field  of  action  open  to  him. 

"  I  have  half  won  the  earl's  army,"  he  thought;  "  but 
it  would  be  to  lose  all  hold  in  their  hearts  again,  if  they 
knew  that  these  unhappy  Woodvilles  were  the  cause  of 
a  second  breach  between  us.  Certes,  the  Lancastrians 
are  making  strong  head!  Certes,  the  times  must  be 
played  with  and  appeased!  And  yet  these  poor  gentle- 
men love  me  after  my  own  fashion,  and  not  with  the 
bear's  hug  of  that  intolerable  earl.  How  came  the  grim 
man  by  so  fair  a  daughter  1  Sweet  Anne !  I  caught  her 
eye  often  fixed  on  me,  and  with  a  soft  fear  which  my 
heart  beat  loud  to  read  aright.  Verily,  this  is  the 
fourth  week  I  have  passed  without  hearing  a  woman's 
sigh !  What  marvel  that  so  fair  a  face  enamours  me ! 
Would  that  Warwick  made  her  his  ambassador;  and 
yet  it  were  all  over  with  the  Woodvilles  if  he  did! 
These  men  know  not  how  to  manage  me,  and  well-a- 
day,  that  task  is  easy  eno'   to  women!  " 

He  laughed  gayly  to  himself  as  he  thus  concluded 
his  soliloquy,  and  extinguished  the  tapers.  But  rest 
did  not  come  to  his  pillow ;  and  after  tossing  to  and  fro 
for  some  time  in  vain  search  for  sleep,  he  rose  and 
opened  his  casement  to  cool  the  air  which  the  tapers 
had  overheated.  In  a  single  casement,  in  a  broad  turret 
projecting  from  an  angle  in  the  building,  below  the 
tower  in  which  his  chamber  was  placed,  the  king  saw 
a  solitary  light  burning  steadily.  A  sight  so  unusual 
at  such  an  hour  surprised  him.  "  Peradventure  the 
wily   prelate,"   thought    he:    "cunning   never    sleeps." 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  79 

But  a  second  look  showed  him  the  very  form  that 
chased  his  slumbers.  Beside  the  casement,  which  was 
partially  open,  he  saw  the  soft  profile  of  the  Lady  Anne: 
it  was  bent  downwards;  and  what  with  the  clear  moon- 
light, and  the  lamp  within  her  chamber,  he  could  see 
distinctly  that  she  was  weeping.  "Ah!  Anne,"  mut- 
tered the  amorous  king,  "  would  that  I  were  by  to  kiss 
away  those  tears!"  While  yet  the  unholy  wish  mur- 
mured on  his  lips,  the  lady  rose.  The  fair  hand,  that 
seemed  almost  transparent  in  the  moonlight,  closed  the 
casement;  and  though  the  light  lingered  for  some  min- 
utes ere  it  left  the  dark  walls  of  the  castle  without  other 
sign  of  life  than  the  step  of  the  sentry,  Anne  was 
visible  no  more. 

"Madness,  madness,  madness!"  again  murmured  the 
king.  "These  iSTeviles  are  fatal  to  me  in  all  ways, — 
in  hatred  or  in  love !  " 


BOOK   VIII. 


IN  WHICH  THE  LAST  LINK  BETWEEN  KING-MAKER  AND 
KING  SNAPS  ASUNDER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Lady  Anne  visits  the  Court. 

It  was  some  weeks  after  the  date  of  the  events  last 
recorded.  The  storm  that  hung  over  the  destinies  of 
King  Edward  was  dispersed  for  the  hour,  though  the 
scattered  clouds  still  darkened  the  horizon :  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  had  defeated  the  Lancastrians  on  the  frontier,1 
and  their  leader  had  perished  on  the  scaffold,  hut  Edward's 
mighty  sword  had  not  shone  in  the  battle.  Chained  by 
an  attraction  yet  more  powerful  than  slaughter,  he  had 
lingered  at  Middleham,  while  Warwick  led  his  army  to 
York ;  and  when  the  earl  arrived  at  the  capital  of 
Edward's  ancestral  duchy,  he  found  that  the  able  and 
active  Hastings  —  having  heard,  even  before  he  reached 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester's  camp,  of  Edward's  apparent 
seizure  by  the  earl  and  the  march  to  Middleham  —  had 
deemed  it  best  to  halt  at  York,  and  to  summon  in  all 
haste  a  council  of  such  of  the  knights  and  barons,  as 
either  love  to  the  king  or  envy  to  Warwick  could  col- 
lect. The  report  was  general  that  Edward  was  retained 
against  his  will  at  Middleham,  and  this  rumor  Hastings 

1   Croyl.  552. 

VOL.  II.  —  6 


82  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

gravely  demanded  Warwick,  on  the  arrival  of  the  latter 
at  York,  to  disprove.  The  earl,  to  clear  himself  from  a 
suspicion  that  impeded  all  his  military  movements,  des- 
patched Lord  Montagu  to  Middleham,  who  returned  not 
only  with  the  king,  but  the  countess  and  her  daughters, 
whom  Edward,  under  pretence  of  proving  the  complete 
amity  that  existed  between  Warwick  and  himself,  carried 
in  his  train.  The  king's  appearance  at  York  reconciled 
all  differences.  But  he  suffered  Warwick  to  march  alone 
against  the  enemy,  and  not  till  after  the  decisive  victory, 
which  left  his  reign  for  a  while  without  an  open  foe,  did 
he  return  to  London. 

Thither  the  earl,  by  the  advice  of  his  friends,  also 
repaired,  and  in  a  council  of  peers,  summoned  for  the 
purpose,  deigned  to  refute  the  rumors  still  commonly 
circulated  by  his  foes,  and  not  disbelieved  by  the  vul- 
gar, whether  of  his  connivance  at  the  popular  rising,  or 
his  forcible  detention  of  the  king  at  Middleham.  To 
this,  agreeably  to  the  council  of  the  archbishop,  succeeded 
a  solemn  interview  of  the  heads  of  the  houses  of  York 
and  Warwick,  in  which  the  once  fair  Rose  of  Baby  (the 
king's  mother)  acted  as  mediator  and  arbiter.  The  earl's 
word  to  the  commons  at  Olney  was  ratified.  Edward 
consented  to  the  temporary  retirement  of  the  Woodvilles, 
though  the  gallant  Anthony  yet  delayed  his  pilgrimage  to 
Compostella.  The  vanity  of  Clarence  was  contented  by 
the  government  of  Ireland,  but,  under  various  pretences, 
Edward  deferred  his  brother's  departure  to  that  important 
post.  A  general  amnesty  was  proclaimed,  a  parliament 
summoned  for  the  redress  of  popular  grievances,  and  the 
betrothal  of  the  king's  daughter  to  Montagu's  heir  was  pro- 
claimed :  the  latter  received  the  title  of  Duke  of  Bedford ; 
and  the  Avhole  land  rejoiced  in  the  recovered  peace  of  the 
realm,  the  retirement  of  the  Woodvilles,   and  the  recoil' 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   13AKOXS.  83 

ciliation  of  the  young  king  with  his  all-heloved  subject. 
Never  had  the  power  of  the  Neviles  seemed  so  secure,  — 
never  did  the  throne  of  Edward  appear  so  stable. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  king  prevailed  upon  the 
earl  and  his  countess  to  permit  the  Lady  Anne  to  accom- 
pany the  Duchess  of  Clarence  in  a  visit  to  the  palace  of 
the  Tower.  The  queen  had  submitted  so  graciously  to 
the  humiliation  of  her  family,  that  even  the  haughty 
Warwick  was  touched  and  softened ;  and  the  visit  of  his 
daughter  at  such  a  time  became  a  homage  to  Elizabeth, 
which  it  suited  his  chivalry  to  render.  The  public  saw 
in  this  visit,  which  was  made  with  great  state  and  cere- 
mony, the  probability  of  a  new  and  popular  alliance. 
The  archbishop  had  suffered  the  rumor  of  Gloucester's 
attachment  to  the  Lady  Anne  to  get  abroad,  and  the 
young  prince's  return  from  the  North  was  anxiously 
expected  by  the  gossips  of  the  day. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  Warwick  showed  his  grati- 
tude for  Marmaduke  Nevile's  devotion.  "  My  dear  and 
gallant  kinsman, "  he  said,  "  I  forget  not  that  when  thou 
didst  leave  the  king  and  the  court  for  the  discredited 
minister  and  his  gloomy  hall,  — ■  I  forget  not  that  thou 
didst  tell  me  of  love  to  some  fair  maiden,  which  had 
not  prospered  according  to  thy  merits.  At  least  it  shall 
not  be  from  lack  of  lands,  or  of  the  gold  spur,  which 
allows  the  wearer  to  ride  by  the  side  of  king  or  kaiser, 
that  thou  canst  not  choose  thy  bride  as  the  heart  bids 
thee.  I  pray  thee,  sweet  cousin,  to  attend  my  child 
Anne  to  the  court,  where  the  king  will  show  thee  no 
ungracious  countenance;  but  it  is  just  to  recompense 
thee  for  the  loss  of  thy  post  in  his  Highness's  chamber. 
I  hold  the  king's  commission  to  make  knights  of  such 
as  can  pay  the  fee,  and  thy  lands  shall  suffice  for  the 
dignity.     Kneel   down,    and   rise   up,    Sir    Marmaduke 


84  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

Nevile,  Lord  of  the  Manor  of  Borrodaile,  with  its 
woodlands  and  its  farms,  and  may  God  and  onr  Lady 
render  thee  puissant  in  battle  and  prosperous  in  love!  " 

Accordingly,  in  his  new  rank,  and  entitled  to  ruffle 
it  with  the  bravest,  Sir  Marmaduke  Nevile  accompanied 
the  earl  and  the  Lady  Anne  to  the  palace  of  the  Tower. 

As  Warwick,  leaving  his  daughter  amidst  the  brilliant 
circle  that  surrounded  Elizabeth,  turned  to  address  the 
king,  he  said,  with  simple  and  affected  nobleness,  — 

"  Ah,  my  liege,  if  you  needed  a  hostage  of  my  faith, 
think  that  my  heart  is  here,  for  verily  its  best  blood 
were  less  dear  to  me  than  that  slight  girl,  —  the  likeness 
of  her  mother,  when  her  lips  first  felt  the  touch  of 
mine!  " 

Edward's  bold  brow  fell,  and  he  blushed  as  he  an- 
swered, "  My  Elizabeth  will  hold  her  as  a  sister.  But, 
cousin,  part  you  not  now  for  the  north  1  " 

"  By  your  leave,  I  go  first  to  Warwick. " 

"  Ah !  you  do  not  wish  to  approve  of  my  seeming 
preparations  against  Erance  1  " 

"  Nay,  your  Highness  is  not  in  earnest.  I  promised 
the  commons  that  you  would  need  no  supplies  for  so 
thriftless  a  war." 

"  Thou  knowest  I  mean  to  fulfil  all  thy  pledges. 
But  the  country  so  swarms  with  disbanded  soldiers, 
that  it  is  politic  to  hold  out  to  them  a  hope  of  service, 
and  so  let  the  clouds  gradually  pass  away." 

"  Alack,  my  liege, "  said  Warwick,  gravely,  "  I  sup- 
pose that  a  crown  teaches  the  brow  to  scheme ;  but 
hearty  peace  or  open  war  seems  ever  the  best  to  me. " 

Edward  smiled,  and  turned  aside.  Warwick  glanced 
at  his  daughter,  whom  Elizabeth  flatteringly  caressed, 
stifled  a  sigh,  and  the  air  seemed  lighter  to  the  insects 
of   the    court    as    his    proud    crest    bowed    beneath    the 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  85 

doorway,  and,  with  the  pomp  of  his  long  retinue,  he 
vanished  from  the  scene. 

"  And  choose,  fair  Anne, "  said  the  queen,  —  "  choose 
from  my  ladies,  whom  you  will  have  for  your  special 
train.  We  would  not  that  your  attendance  should  be 
less  than  royal." 

The  gentle  Anne  in  vain  sought  to  excuse  herself 
from  an  honor  at  once  arrogant  and  invidious,  though 
too  innocent  to  perceive  the  cunning  so  characteristic 
of  the  queen;  for,  under  the  guise  of  a  special  compli- 
ment, Anne  had  received  the  royal  request  to  have  her 
female  attendants  chosen  from  the  court,  and  Elizabeth 
now  desired  to  force  upon  her  a  selection  which  could 
not  fail  to  mortify  those  not  preferred.  But  glancing 
timidly  round  the  circle,  the  noble  damsel's  eye  rested 
on  one  fair  face,  and  in  that  face  there  was  so  much 
that  awoke  her  own  interest,  and  stirred  up  a  fond  and 
sad  remembrance,  that  she  passed  involuntarily  to  the 
stranger's  side,  and  artlessly  took  her  hand.  The  high- 
born maidens,  grouped  around,  glanced  at  each  other 
with  a  sneer,  and  slunk  back.  Even  the  queen  looked 
surprised,  but  recovering  herself,  inclined  her  head 
graciously,  and  said,  "  Do  we  read  your  meaning  aright, 
Lady  Anne,  and  would  you  this  gentlewoman,  Mistress 
Sihyll  "Warner,  as  one  of  your  chamber?" 

"  Sibyll ;  ah,  I  knew  that  my  memory  failed  me  not, " 
murmured  Anne;  and,  after  bowing  assent  to  the  queen, 
she  said,  "  Do  you  not  also  recall,  fair  demoiselle,  our 
meeting,  when  children,  long  years  ago  1  " 

"  Well,  noble  dame,  "  1  answered  Sibyll.  And  as  Anne 
turned,  with  her  air  of  modest  gentleness,  yet  of  lofty 
birth  and  breeding,   to   explain   to  the    queen   that  she 

1  The  title  of  Dame  was  at  that  time  applied  indiscriminately  to 
ladies,  whether  married  or  single,  if  of  high  birth. 


86  THE   LAST    OF   THE   B AEONS. 

had  met  Sibyll  in  earlier  years,  the  king  approached  to 
monopolize  his  guest's  voice  and  ear.  It  seemed  natural 
to  all  present  that  Edward  should  devote  peculiar  atten- 
tion to  the  daughter  of  Warwick  and  the  sister  of  the 
Duchess  of  Clarence;  and  even  Elizabeth  suspected  no 
guiltier  gallantry  in  the  subdued  voice,  the  caressing 
manner,  which  her  handsome  lord  adopted  throughout 
that  day,  even  to  the  close  of  the  nightly  revel,  —  towards 
a  demoiselle  too  high  (it  might  well  appear)  for  licentious 
homage. 

But  Anne  herself,  though  too  guileless  to  suspect 
the  nature  of  Edward's  courtesy,  yet  shrank  from  it 
in  vague  terror.  All  his  beauty,  all  his  fascination, 
could  not  root  from  her  mind  the  remembrance  of  the 
exiled  prince,  —  nay,  the  brilliancy  of  his  qualities  made 
her  the  more  averse  to  him.  It  darkened  the  pros- 
pects of  Edward  of  Lancaster  that  Edward  of  York 
should  wear  so  gracious  and  so  popular  a  form.  She 
hailed  with  delight  the  hour  when  she  was  conducted 
to  her  chamber,  and  dismissing  gently  the  pompous 
retinue  allotted  to  her,  found  herself  alone  with  the 
young  maiden  whom  she  had  elected  to  her  special 
service. 

"  And  you  remember  me,  too,  fair  Sibyll  ? "  said 
Anne,  with  her  dulcet  and  endearing  voice. 

"  Truly,  who  would  not  1  for  as  you  then,  noble 
lady,  glided  apart  from  the  other  children,  hand  in 
hand  with  the  young  prince,  in  whom  all  dreamed  to 
see  their  future  king,  I  heard  the  universal  murmur 
of  —  a  false  prophecy  !  " 

"  Ah !  and  of  what  ?  "  asked  Anne. 

"  That  in  the  hand  the  prince  clasped,  with  his  small, 
rosy  fingers,  —  the  hand  of  great  Warwick's  daughter, — ■ 
lay  the  lest  defence  of  his  father's  throne." 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  87 

Anne's  breast  heaved,  and  her  small  foot  began  to 
mark  strange  characters  on  the  floor. 

"So,"  she  said,  musingly,  "so  even  here,  amidst  a 
new  court,  you  forget  not  Prince  Edward  of  Lancaster. 
Oh,  we  shall  rind  hours  to  talk  of  the  past  days.  But 
how,  if  your  childhood  was  spent  in  Margaret's  court, 
does  your  youth  find  a  welcome  in  Elizabeth's  1  " 

"  Avarice  and  power  had  need  of  my  father's  science. 
He  is  a  scholar  of  good  birth,  but  fallen  fortunes,  —  even 
now,  and  ever  while  night  lasts,  he  is  at  work.  I 
belonged  to  the  train  of  her  Grace  of  Bedford,  but  when 
the  duchess  quitted  the  court,  and  the  king  retained 
my  father  in  his  own  royal  service,  her  Highness  the 
queen  was  pleased  to  receive  me  among  her  maidens. 
Happy  that  my  father's  home  is  mine,  —  who  else  could 
tend  him  ?  " 

"  Thou  art  his  only  child  ?  He  must  love  thee 
dearly  ?  " 

"Yet  not  as  I  love  him, —  he  lives  in  a  life  apart 
from  all  else  that  live.  But,  after  all,  peradventure 
it  is  sweeter  to  love  than  to  be  loved. " 

Anne,  whose  nature  was  singularly  tender  and  woman- 
like, was  greatly  affected  by  this  answer:  she  drew 
nearer  to  Sibyll;  she  twined  her  arm  round  her  slight 
form,  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"  Shall  /  love  thee,  Sibyll  1  "  she  said,  with  a  girl's 
candid  simplicity,  "  and  wilt  thou  love  me  1  " 

"Ah,  lady!  there  are  so  many  to  love  thee:  father, 
mother,  sister,  —  all  the  world ;  the  very  sun  shines 
more  kindly  upon  the  great!  " 

"  Xay  !  "  said  Anne,  with  that  jealousy  of  a  claim  to 
suffering  to  which  the  gentler  natures  are  prone ;  "  I  may 
have  sorrows  from  which  thou  art  free.  I  confess  to 
thee,  Sibyll,  that  something  I  know  not  how  to  explain 


88  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

draws  me  strangely  towards  thy  sweet  face.  Marriage 
has  lost  me  my  only  sister,  —  for  since  Isabel  is  wed,  she 
is  changed  to  me,  — would  that  her  place  were  supplied 
by  thee !  Shall  I  steal  thee  from  the  queen,  when  I 
depart  1  Ah !  my  mother  —  at  least  thou  wilt  love  her  ! 
for,  verily,  to  love  my  mother  you  have  but  to  breathe 
the  same  air.      Kiss  me,  Sibyll. " 

Kindness,  of  late,  had  been  strange  to  Sibyll,  espe- 
cially from  her  own  sex,  one  of  her  own  age;  it  came 
like  morning  upon  the  folded  blossom.  She  threw  her 
arms  round  the  new  friend  that  seemed  sent  to  her  from 
heaven;  she  kissed  Anne's  face  and  hands  with  grateful 
tears. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said  at  last,  when  she  could  command  a 
voice  still  broken  with  emotion, —  "if  I  could  ever  serve 
—  ever  repay  thee,  though  those  gracious  words  were  the 
last  thy  lips  should  ever  deign  to  address  to  me !  " 

Anne  was  delighted :  she  had  never  yet  found  one  to 
protect ;  she  had  never  yet  found  one  in  whom  thoroughly 
to  confide.  Gentle  as  her  mother  was,  the  distinction  be- 
tween child  and  parent  was,  even  in  the  fond  family  she 
belonged  to,  so  great  in  that  day,  that  she  could  never 
have  betrayed  to  the  countess  the  wild  weakness  of  her 
young  heart. 

The  wish  to  communicate  —  to  reveal  —  is  so  natural 
to  extreme  youth,  and  in  Anne  that  disposition  was  so 
increased  by  a  nature  at  once  open  and  inclined  to  lean 
on  others,  that  she  had,  as  we  have  seen,  sought  a  con- 
fidant in  Isabel ;  but  with  her,  even  at  the  first,  she 
found  but  the  half-contemptuous  pity  of  a  strong  and 
hard  mind ;  and  lately,  since  Edward's  visit  to  Middle- 
ham,  the  Duchess  of  Clarence  had  been  so  wrapt  in  her 
own  imperious  egotism  and  discontented  ambition,  that 
the  timid  Anne  had  not  even  dared  to  touch,  with  her, 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BAKONS.  89 

upon  those  secrets  which  it  flushed  her  own  bashful 
cheek  to  recall.  And  this  visit  to  the  court;  this  new, 
unfamiliar  scene;  this  estrangement  from  all  the  old 
accustomed  affections,  —  had  produced  in  her  that  sense 
of  loneliness  which  is  so  irksome,  till  grave  experience 
of  real  life  accustoms  us  to  the  common  lot.  So,  with 
the  exaggerated  and  somewhat  morbid  sensibility  that 
belonged  to  her,  she  turned  at  once,  and  by  impulse,  to 
this  sudden,  yet  graceful  friendship.  Here  was  one  of 
her  own  age, —  one  who  had  known  sorrow;  one  whose 
voice  and  eyes  charmed  her;  one  who  would  not  chide 
even  folly;  one,  above  all,  who  had  seen  her  beloved 
prince;  one  associated  with  her  fondest  memories;  one 
who  might  have  a  thousand  tales  to  tell  of  the  day 
when  the  outlaw-boy  was  a  monarch's  heir.  In  the 
childishness  of  her  soft  years,  she  almost  wept  at  an- 
other channel  for  so  much  natural  tenderness.  It  was 
half  the  woman  gaining  a  woman-friend, —  half  the  child 
clinging  to  a  new  playmate. 

"Ah,  Sibyll!  "  she  whispered,  "do  not  leave  me  to- 
night; this  strange  place  daunts  me,  and  the  figures  on 
the  arras  seem  so  tall  and  spectre-like,  —  and  they  say  the 
old  tower  is  haunted.     Stay,  dear  Sibyll!  " 

And  Sibyll  stayed. 


90  THE  LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

The  Sleeping  Innocence  —  The  Wakeful  Crime. 

While  these  charming  girls  thus  innocently  conferred; 
while,  Anne's  sweet  voice  running  on  in  her  artless 
fancies,  they  helped  each  other  to  undress ;  while  hand 
in  hand  they  knelt  in  prayer  by  the  crucifix  in  the  dim 
recess;  while  timidly  they  extinguished  the  light,  and 
stole  to  rest;  while,  conversing  in  whispers,  growing 
gradually  more  faint  and  low,  they  sank  into  guileless 
sleep,  —  the  unholy  king  paced  his  solitary  chamber, 
parched  with  the  fever  of  the  sudden  and  frantic  pas- 
sion, that  swept  away  from  a  heart,  in  which  every 
impulse  was  a  giant,  all  the  memories  of  honor,  grati- 
tude, and  law. 

The  mechanism  of  this  strong  man's  nature  was  that 
almost  unknown  to  the  modern  time;  it  belonged  to 
those  earlier  days  which  furnish  to  Greece  the  terrible 
legends  Ovid  has  clothed  in  gloomy  fire,  which  a  similar 
civilization  produced  no  less  in  the  Middle  Ages,  whether 
of  Italy  or  the  North:  that  period  when  crime  took  a 
grandeur  from  its  excess, —  when  power  was  so  great  and 
absolute,  that  its  girth  burst  the  ligaments  of  conscience ; 
when  a  despot  was  but  the  incarnation  of  will,  when 
honor  was  indeed  a  religion,  but  its  faith  Avas  valor,  and 
it  wrote  its  decalogue  with  the  point  of  a  fearless  sword. 

The  youth  of  Edward  IV.  was  as  the  youth  of  an 
ancient  Titan,  —  of  an  Italian  Borgia ;  through  its  veins 
the  hasty  blood  rolled  as  a  devouring  flame.  This  im- 
petuous and  fiery  temperament  was   rendered  yet  more 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BAKOXS.  91 

fearful  by  the  indulgence  of  every  intemperance;  it  fed 
on  wine  and  lust :  its  very  virtues  strengthened  its  vices, 
its  courage  stifled  every  whisper  of  prudence,  its  intellect, 
uninured  to  all  discipline,  taught  it  to  disdain  every 
obstacle  to  its  desires.  Edward  could,  indeed,  as  we 
have  seen,  be  false  and  crafty,  —  a  temporizer,  a  dissimu- 
lator; but  it  was  only  as  the  tiger  creeps,  the  better  to 
spring,  undetected,  on  its  prey.  If  detected,  the  cunning 
ceased,  the  daring  rose,  and  the  mighty  savage  had 
fronted  ten  thousand  foes,  secure  in  its  fangs  and  talons, 
its  bold  heart,  and  its  deadly  spring.  Hence,  with  all 
Edward's  abilities,  the  astonishing  levities  and  indis- 
cretions of  his  younger,  years.  It  almost  seemed,  as  we 
have  seen  him  play  fast  and  loose  with  the  might  of 
Warwick,  and  with  that  power,  whether  of  barons  or 
of  people,  which  any  other  prince  of  half  his  talents 
would  have  trembled  to  arouse  against  an  unrooted 
throne;  —  it  almost  seemed  as  if  he  loved  to  provoke  a 
danger,  for  the  pleasure  it  gave  the  brain  to  baffle,  or 
the  hand  to  crush  it.  His  whole  nature  coveting  excite- 
ment, nothing  was  left  to  the  beautiful,  the  luxurious 
Edward,  already  wearied  with  pomp  and  pleasure,  but 
what  was  unholy  and  forbidden.  In  his  court  were  a 
hundred  ladies,  perhaps  not  less  fair  than  Anne,  at  least 
of  a  beauty  more  commanding  the  common  homage,  but 
these  he  had  only  to  smile  on,  with  ease  to  win.  No 
awful  danger,  no  inexpiable  guilt,  attended  those  vulgar 
frailties,  and  therefore  they  ceased  to  tempt.  But  here 
the  virgin  guest,  the  daughter  of  his  mightiest  subject, 
the  beloved  treasure  of  the  man  whose  hand  had  built  a 
throne,  whose  word  had  dispersed  an  army,  —  here,  the 
more  the  reason  warned,  the  conscience  started,  the  more 
the  hell-born  passion  was  aroused! 

Like  men  of  his  peculiar  constitution,   Edward  was 


92  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

wholly  incapable  of  pure  and  steady  love.  His  affection 
for  his  queen  the  most  resembled  that  diviner  affection; 
but,  when  analyzed,  it  was  composed  of  feelings  widely 
distinct.  From  a  sudden  passion,  not  otherwise  to  be 
gratified,  he  had  made  the  rashest  sacrifices  for  an  un- 
equal marriage.  His  vanity,  and  something  of  original 
magnanimity,  despite  his  vices,  urged  him  to  protect 
what  he  himself  had  raised, —  to  secure  the  honor  of  the 
subject  who  was  honored  by  the  king.  In  common  with 
most  rude  and  powerful  natures,  he  was  strongly  alive 
to  the  affections  of  a  father,  and  the  faces  of  his  children 
helped  to  maintain  the  influence  of  the  mother.  But  in 
all  this,  we  need  scarcely  say,  that  that  true  love,  which 
is  at  once  a  passion  and  a  devotion,  existed  not.  Love 
with  him  cared  not  for  the  person  loved,  but  solely  for 
its  own  gratification ;  it  was  desire  for  possession,  — 
nothing  more.  But  that  desire  was  the  will  of  a  king 
who  never  knew  fear  or  scruple;  and,  pampered  by 
eternal  indulgence,  it  was  to  the  feeble  lusts  of  common 
men  what  the  storm  is  to  the  west  wind.  Yet  still,  as 
in  the  solitude  of  night  he  paced  his  chamber,  the 
shadow  of  the  great  crime  advancing  iqjon  his  soul 
appalled  even  that  dauntless  conscience.  He  gasped 
for  breath,  —  his  cheeks  flushed  crimson,  and  the  next 
moment  grew  deadly  pale.  He  heard  the  loud  beating 
of  his  heart.  He  stopped  still.  He  flung  himself  on  a 
seat,  and  hid  his  face  with  his  hands,  then  starting  up, 
he  exclaimed,  "No  —  no!  I  cannot  shut  out  that  sweet 
face,  those  blue  eyes  from  my  gaze.  They  haunt  me  to 
my  destruction  and  her  own.  Yet  why  say  destruction  1 
If  she  love  me,  who  shall  know  the  deed;  if  she  love 
me  not,  will  she  dare  to  reveal  her  shame  !  Shame  !  — 
nay,  a  king's  embrace  never  dishonors.  A  king's  bas- 
tard is  a  house's  pride.     All  is  still, —  the   very  moon 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  93 

vanishes  from  heaven.  The  noiseless  rushes  in  the 
gallery  give  no  echo  to  the  footstep.  Fie  on  me  !  Can 
a  Plantagenet  know  fear?  "  He  allowed  himself  no 
further  time  to  pause ;  he  opened  the  door  gently,  and 
stole  along  the  gallery.  He  knew  well  the  chamber, 
for  it  was  appointed  by  his  command;  and,  besides  the 
usual  door  from  the  corridor,  a  small  closet  conducted 
to  a  secret  panel  behind  the  arras.  It  was  the  apart- 
ment occupied,  in  her  visits  to  the  court,  by  the  queen's 
rival,  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Lucy.  He  passed  into  the 
closet;  he  lifted  the  arras;  he  stood  in  that  chamber, 
which  gratitude,  and  chivalry,  and  hospitable  faith, 
should  have  made  sacred  as  a  shrine.  And  suddenly, 
as  he  entered,  the  moon,  before  hid  beneath  a  melancholy 
cloud,  broke,  forth  in  awful  splendor,  and  her  light 
rushed  through  the  casement  opposite  his  eye,  and 
bathed  the  room  with  the  beams  of  a  ghostlier  day. 

The  abruptness  of  the  solemn  and  mournful  glory 
scared  him  as  the  rebuking  face  of  a  living  thing;  a 
presence  as  if  not  of  earth  seemed  to  interpose  between 
the  victim  and  the  guilt.  It  was,  however,  but  for  a 
moment  that  his  step  halted.  He  advanced:  he  drew 
aside  the  folds  of  the  curtain  heavy  with  tissue  of  gold, 
and  the  sleeping  face  of  Anne  lay  hushed  before  him. 
It  looked  pale  in  the  moonlight,  but  ineffably  serene, 
and  the  smile  on  its  lips  seemed  still  sweeter  than  that 
which  it  wore  aAvake.  So  fixed  was  his  gaze  —  so  ar- 
dently did  his  whole  heart  and  being  feed  through  his 
eyes  upon  that  exquisite  picture  of  innocence  and  youth 
—  that  he  did  not  see  for  some  moments  that  the  sleeper 
was  not  alone.  Suddenly  an  exclamation  rose  to  his 
lips;  he  clinched  his  hand  in  jealous  agony,  —  he  ap- 
proached, he  bent  over,  he  heard  the  regular  breathing 
which  the  dreams  of  guilt  never  know;  and  then,  when 


94  THE   LAST    OF   THE   BARONS. 

he  saw  that  pure  and  interlaced  embrace,  —  the  serene 
yet  somewhat  melancholy  face  of  Sibyll,  which  seemed 
hueless  as  marble  in  the  moonlight,  bending  partially 
over  that  of  Anne,  as  if,  even  in  sleep,  watchful,  —  both 
charming  forms  so  linked  and  woven  that  the  two 
seemed  as  one  life,  the  very  breath  in  each  rising  and 
ebbing  with  the  other,  the  dark  ringlets  of  Sibyll  min- 
gling with  the  auburn  gold  of  Anne's  luxuriant  hair,  and 
the  darkness  and  the  gold,  tress  within  tress,  falling 
impartially  over  either  neck,  that  gleamed  like  ivory 
beneath  that  common  veil,  —  when  he  saw  this  twofold 
loveliness,  the  sentiment  —  the  conviction  of  that  myste- 
rious defence  which  exists  in  purity  —  thrilled  like  ice 
through  his  burning  veins.  In  all  his  might  of  monarch 
and  of  man,  he  felt  the  awe  of  that  unlooked-for  protec- 
tion:  maidenhood  sheltering  maidenhood, —  innocence 
guarding  innocence.  The  double  virtue  appalled  and 
baffled  him;  and  that  slight  arm  which  encircled  the 
neck  he  would  have  perilled  his  realm  to  clasp,  shielded 
his  victim  more  effectually  than  the  bucklers  of  all  the 
warriors  that  ever  gathered  round  the  banner  of  the 
lofty  Warwick.  Night  and  the  occasion  befriended  him ; 
but  in  vain.  While  Sibyll  was  there,  Anne  was  saved. 
He  ground  his  teeth,  and  muttered  to  himself.  At  that 
moment  Anne  turned  restlessly.  This  movement  dis- 
turbed the  light  sleep  of  her  companion.  She  spoke 
half  inaudibly,  but  the  sound  was  as  the  hoot  of  shame 
in  the  ear  of  the  guilty  king.  He  let  fall  the  curtain, 
and  was  gone.  And  if  one  who  lived  afterwards  to  hear, 
and  to  credit,  the  murderous  doom  which,  unless  history 
lies,  closed  the  male  line  of  Edward,  had  beheld  the 
king  stealing,  felon-like,  from  the  chamber,  his  step 
reeling  to  and  fro  the  gallery  floors;  his  face  distorted 
by  stormy  passion;  his  lips  white  and  murmuring;  his 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BAROXS.  95 

beauty  and  his  glory  dimmed  and  humbled,  —  the  spec- 
tator might  have  half  believed  that  while  Edward  gazed 
upon  those  harmless  sleepers,  A  vision  of  the  tragedy 
to  come  had  stricken  down  his  thought  of  guilt,  and 
filled  up  its  place  with  horror,  —  a  vision  of  a  sleep  as 
pure,  of  two  forms  wrapped  hi  an  embrace  as  fond,  of 
intruders  meditating  a  crime  scarce  fouler  than  his  own; 
and  the  sins  of  the  father  starting  into  grim  corporeal 
shapes,  to  become  the  deathsmen  of  the  sons  ! 


96  THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

New   Dangers  to  the   House   of  York  —  And  the  King's  Heart 
Allies  itself  with  Rebellion  against  the  King's  Throne. 

Oh  !  beautiful  is  the  love  of  youth  to  youth,  and  touch- 
ing the  tenderness  of  womanhood  to  woman ;  and  fair  in 
the  eyes  of  the  happy  sun  is  the  waking  of  holy  sleep, 
and  the  virgin  kiss  upon  virgin  lips,  smiling  and  murmur- 
ing the  sweet  "  Good  morrow  !  " 

Anne  was  the  first  to  wake ;  and  as  the  bright,  winter 
morn,  robust  with  frosty  sunbeams,  shone  cheerily  upon 
Sibyll's  face,  she  was  struck  with  a  beauty  she  had  not 
sufficiently  observed  the  day  before;  for  in  the  sleep  of 
the  young  the  traces  of  thought  and  care  vanish,  the 
aching  heart  is  lulled  in  the  body's  rest,  the  hard  lines 
relax  into  flexile  ease,  a  softer,  warmer  bloom  steals  over 
the  cheek,  and,  relieved  from  the  stiff  restraints  of  dress, 
the  rounded  limbs  repose  in  a  more  alluring  grace! 
Youth  seems  younger  in  its  slumber,  and  beauty  more 
beautiful,  and  purity  more  pure.  Long  and  dark,  the 
fringe  of  the  eyelash  rested  upon  the  white  lids,  and  the 
freshness  of  the  parting,  pouted  lips  invited  the  sister 
kiss  that  wakened  up  the  sleeper. 

"  Ah !  lady, "  said  Sibyll,  parting  her  tresses  from  her 
dark  blue  eyes,  "  you  are  here, —  you  are  safe !  —  blessed 
be  the  saints  and  Our  Lady ;  for  I  had  a  dream  in  the 
night  that  startled  and  appalled  me." 

"  And  my  dreams  were  all  blithe  and  golden, "  said 
Anne.     "  What  was  thine  ?  " 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BATtONS.  97 

"  Methought  you  were  asleep  and  in  this  chamber, 
and  I  not  by  your  side,  but  watching  you,  at  a  little  dis- 
tance ;  and,  lo  !  a  horrible  serpent  glided  from  yon  recess, 
and,  crawling  to  your  pillow,  I  heard  its  hiss,  and  strove 
to  come  to  your  aid,  but  in  vain ;  a  spell  seemed 
to  chain  my  limbs.  At  last  I  found  voice,  —  I  cried 
aloud,  I  awoke ;  and  mock  me  not,  but  I  surely  heard 
a  parting  footstep,  and  the  low  grating  of  some  sliding 
door. " 

"  It  was  the  dream's  influence,  enduring  beyond  the 
dream.  I  have  often  felt  it, —  nay,  even  last  night;  for 
I,  too,  dreamed  of  another,  dreamed  that  I  stood  by  the 
altar  with  one  far  away,  and  when  I  woke,  —  for  I  woke 
also, —  it  was  long  before  I  could  believe  it  was  thy  hand 
I  held,  and  thine  arm  that  embraced  me." 

The  young  friends  rose,  and  their  toilet  was  scarcely 
ended,  when  again  appeared  in  the  chamber  all  the  state- 
liness  of  retinue  allotted  to  the  Lady  Anne.  Sibyll 
turned  to  depart.  "  And  whither  go  you  ?  "  asked 
Anne. 

"  To  visit  my  father ;  it  is  my  first  task  on  rising, " 
returned  Sibyll,  in  a  whisper. 

"  You  must  let  me  visit  him,  too,  at  a  later  hour. 
Find  me  here  an  hour  before  noon,  Sibyll." 

The  early  morning  was  passed  by  Anne  in  the  queen's 
company.  The  refection,  the  embroidery  frame,  the 
closheys,  filled  up  the  hours.  The  Duchess  of  Clarence 
had  left  the  palace  with  her  lord  to  visit  the  king's 
mother  at  Baynard's  Castle;  and  Anne's  timid  spirits 
were  saddened  by  the  strangeness  of  the  faces  round 
her,  and  Elizabeth's  habitual  silence.  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  weak  and  ill-fated  queen  that  ever  failed 
to  conciliate  friends.  Though  perpetually  striving  to 
form  and  create  a  party,  she  never  succeeded  in  gaining 

VOL.  II.  —  7 


98  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

confidence   or  respect.     And  no  one  raised  so  high  was 
ever  left  so  friendless  as  Elizabeth,  when,  in  her  awful 
widowhood,  her  dowry  home  became  the  sanctuary.     All 
her  power  was  but  the  shadow  of  her  husband's  royal 
sun,  and  vanished  when  the  orb  prematurely  set;    yet 
she  had  all  gifts   of  person  in   her  favor,    and  a  sleek 
smoothness    of    manner    that    seemed  to    the    superficial 
formed  to  win ;  but  the  voice  was  artificial,  and  the  eye 
cold  and  stealthy.      About  her  formal  precision  there  was 
an  eternal  consciousness  of  self,  —  a  breathing  egotism. 
Her  laugh  was  displeasing,  —  cynical,  not  mirthful ;   she 
had  none  of  that  forgetfulness  of  self,  that  warmth  when 
gay,  that  earnestness  when  sad,  which  create  sympathy. 
Her  beauty  was  without  loveliness,  —  her  character  with- 
out charm;    every  proportion  in  her  form  might  allure 
the  sensualist ;    but  there  stopped  the  fascination.      The 
mind    was    trivial,    though    cunning   and    dissimulating; 
and  the   very   evenness  of  her  temper   seemed  but   the 
clockwork  of  a  heart  insensible  to  its  own  movements. 
Vain  in  prosperity,  what  wonder  that  she  was  so  abject 
in  misfortune  1     What  wonder  that,  even  while,  in  later 
and   gloomier    years,1    accusing    Eichard    III.    of    the 
murder  of   her  royal  sons,   and  knowing  him,   at  least, 
the   executioner  of  her   brother,    and   her   child   by  the 
bridegroom    of     her    youth,2    she     consented     to     send 
her    daughters    to    his    custody,    though    subjected    to 
the  stain  of  illegitimacy,  and  herself  only  recognized  as 
the  harlot? 

1  Grafton,  806. 

2  Anthony  Lord  Rivers  and  Lord  Richard  Gray.  Not  the  least 
instance  of  the  frivolity  of  Elizabeth's  mind  is  to  be  found  in  her 
willingness,  after  all  the  woes  of  her  second  widowhood,  and  when 
she  was  not  very  far  short  of  sixty  years  old,  to  take  a  third  hus- 
band, James  III.  of  Scotland,  —  a  marriage  prevented  only  by  the 
death  of  the  Scotch  king. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAKONS.  99 

The  king,  meanwhile,  had  ridden  out  betimes  alone, 
and  no  other  of  the  male  sex  presumed  in  his  absence  to 
invade  the  female  circle.  It  was  with  all  a  girl's  fresh 
delight,  that  Anne  escaped  at  last  to  her  own  chamber, 
where  she  found  Sibyll,  and,  with  her  guidance,  she 
threaded  the  gloomy  mazes  of  the  Tower.  "  Let  me 
see, "  she  whispered,  "  before  we  visit  your  father,  —  let 
me  see  the  turret  in  which  the  unhappy  Henry  is 
confined. " 

And  Sibyll  led  her  through  the  arch  of  that  tower, 
now  called  "  The  Bloody, "  and  showed  her  the  narrow 
casement,  deep  sunk  in  the  mighty  wall,  without  which 
hung  the  starling  in  the  cage,  basking  its  plumes  in  the 
wintry  sun.  Anne  gazed  with  that  deep  interest  and 
tender  reverence  which  the  parent  of  the  man  she  loves 
naturally  excites  in  a  woman;  and  while  thus  standing 
sorrowful  and  silent  the  casement  was  unbarred,  and 
she  saw  the  mild  face  of  the  human  captive ;  he  seemed 
to  talk  to  the  bird,  which,  in  shrill  tones  and  with  clap- 
ping wings,  answered  his  address.  At  that  time  a  horn 
sounded  at  a  little  distance  off;  a  clangor  of  arms,  as 
the  sentries  saluted,  was  heard;  the  demoiselles  re- 
treated through  the  arch,  and  mounted  the  stair  con- 
ducting to  the  very  room,  then  unoccupied,  in  which 
tradition  records  the  murder  of  the  Third  Richard's 
nephews;  and  scarcely  had  they  gained  this  retreat,  ere 
towards  the  Bloody  Gate,  and  before  the  prison  tower, 
rode  the  king  who  had  mounted  the  captive's  throne. 
His  steed,  gaudy  with  its  housing,  — his  splendid  dress; 
the  knights  and  squires  who  started  forward  from 
every  corner  to  hold  his  gilded  stirrup;  his  vigorous 
youth,  so  blooming  and  so  radiant,  —  all  contrasted,  with 
oppressive  force,  the  careworn  face  that  watched  him 
meekly  through  the  little   casement   of   the  Wakefield 


100         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

Tower.  Edward's  large,  quick,  blue  eye  caught  sudden 
sight  of  the  once  familiar  features.  He  looked  up 
steaddy,  and  his  gaze  encountered  the  fallen  king's.  He 
changed  countenance :  but  with  the  external  chivalry 
that  made  the  surface  of  his  hollow  though  brilliant 
character,  he  bowed  low  to  his  saddle-bow  as  he  saw 
his  captive,  and  removed  the  plumed  cap  from  his  high 
brow. 

Henry  smiled  sadly,  and  shook  his  reverend  head, 
as  if  gently  to  rebuke  the  mockery :  then  he  closed  the 
casement,  and  Edward  rode  into  the  yard. 

"  How  can  the  king  hold  here  a  court  and  here  a 
prison  ?  Oh,  hard  heart !  "  murmured  Anne,  as,  when 
Edward  had  disappeared,  the  damsels  bent  their  way 
to  Adam's  chamber. 

"  Would  the  Earl  Warwick  approve  thy  pity,  sweet 
Lady  Anne  1  "  asked  Sibyll. 

"  My  father's  heart  is  too  generous  to  condemn  it, " 
returned  Anne,  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes ;  "  how 
often  in  the  knight's  galliard  shall  I  see  that  face !  " 

The  turret  in  which  Warner's  room  was  placed 
flanked  the  wing  inhabited  by  the  royal  family  and 
their  more  distinguished  guests  (namely,  the  palace,  prop- 
erly speaking,  as  distinct  from  the  fortress),  and  com- 
municated with  the  regal  lodge  by  a  long  corridor, 
raised  above  cloisters  and  open  to  a  court-yard.  At  one 
end  of  this  corridor  a  door  opened  upon  the  passage,  in 
which  was  situated  the  chamber  of  the  Lady  Anne; 
the  other  extremity  communicated  with  a  rugged  stair 
of  stone,  conducting  to  the  rooms  tenanted  by  Warner. 
Leaving  Sibyll  to  present  her  learned  father  to  the 
gentle  Anne,  we  follow  the  king  into  the  garden,  which 
he  entered  on  dismounting.  He  found  here  the  Arch- 
bishop   of   York,  who   had    come   to    the   palace    in   his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         101 

barge,  and  with  but  a  slight  retinue,  and  who  was  now 
conversing  with  Hastings  in  earnest  whispers. 

The  king,  who  seemed  thoughtful  and  fatigued,  ap- 
proached the  two,  and  said,  with  a  forced  smile,  "  What 
learned  sententiary  engages  you  two  scholars  1  " 

"Your  Grace,"  said  the  archbishop,  "Minerva  was 
not  precisely  the  goddess  most  potent  over  our  thoughts 
at  that  moment.  1  received  a  letter  last  evening  from 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  and  as  I  know  the  love  borne 
by  the  prince  to  the  Lord  Hastings,  I  inquired  of  your 
chamberlain  how  far  he  would  have  foreguessed  the 
news  it  announced." 

"  And  what  may  the  tidings  be  ? "  asked  Edward, 
absently. 

The  prelate  hesitated. 

"  Sire,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  the  familiar  confidence  Avith 
which  both  your  Highness  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
distinguish  the  chamberlain,  permits  me  to  communi- 
cate the  purport  of  the  letter  in  his  presence.  The 
young  duke  informs  me  that  he  hath  long  con- 
ceived an  affection  which  he  would  improve  into  mar- 
riage, but  before  he  address  either  the  demoiselle  or 
her  father,  he  prays  me  to  confer  with  your  Grace, 
whose  pleasure  in  this,  as  in  all  things,  will  be  his 
sovereign  law." 

"  Ah,  Richard  loves  me  with  a  truer  love  than  George 
of  Clarence !  But  whom  can  he  have  seen  on  the  borders 
worthy  to  be  a  prince's  bride  1  " 

"  It  is  no  sudden  passion,  sire,  as  I  before  hinted ; 
nay,  it  has  been  for  some  time  sufficiently  notorious  to 
his  friends,  and  many  of  the  court, —  it  is  an  affection 
for  a  maiden  known  to  him  in  childhood,  connected  to 
him  by  blood:  my  niece,  Anne  Nevile." 

As   if   stung   by    a   scorpion,  Edward   threw   off  the 


102         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

prelate's  arm,  on  which  he  had  been  leaning  with  his 
usual  caressing  courtesy. 

"  This  is  too  much !  "  said  he,  quickly,  and  his  face, 
before  somewhat  pale,  grew  highly  flushed.  —  "  Is  the 
whole  royalty  of  England  to  be  one  Nevile  1  Have  I 
not  sufficiently  narrowed  the  bases  of  my  throne  1 
Instead  of  mating  my  daughter  to  a  foreign  power, — 
to  Spain  or  to  Bretagne,  —  she  is  betrothed  to  young 
Montagu !  Clarence  weds  Isabel,  and  now  Gloucester 
—  no ,  prelate,  I  will  not  consent !  " 

The  archbishop  was  so  little  prepared  for  this  burst, 
that  he  remained  speechless.  Hastings  pressed  the 
king's  arm,  as  if  to  caution  him  against  so  imprudent 
a  display  of  resentment.  But  the  king  walked  on,  not 
heeding  him,  and  in  great  disturbance.  Hastings  in- 
terchanged looks  with  the  archbishop,  and  followed  his 
royal  master. 

"  My  king, "  he  said,  in  an  earnest  whisper,  "  what- 
ever you  decide,  do  not  again  provoke  unhappy  feuds 
laid  at  rest!  Already  this  morning  I  sought  your 
chamber,  but  you  were  abroad,  to  say  that  I  have 
received  intelligence  of  a  fresh  rising  of  the  Lancas- 
trians in  Lincolnshire,  under  Sir  Robert  Welles,  and 
the  warlike  knight  of  Scrivelsby,  Sir  Thomas  Dymoke. 
This  is  not  yet  an  hour  to  anger  the  pride  of  the 
Neviles!  " 

"Oh,  Hastings!  Hastings!  "  said  the  king,  in  a  tone 
of  passionate  emotion, —  "there  are  moments  when  the 
human  heart  cannot  dissemble !  Howbeit  your  advice 
is  wise  and  honest!  No,  we  must  not  anger  the 
Neviles!" 

He  turned  abruptly;  rejoined  the  archbishop,  who 
stood  on  the  spot  on  which  the  king  had  left  him,  his 
arms  folded  on  his  breast,  his  face  calm,  but  haughty. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         103 

"  My  most  worshipful  cousin,"  said  Edward,  "  forgive 
the  well-known  heat  of  my  hasty  moods!  I  had  hoped 
that  Richard  would,  by  a  foreign  alliance,  have  repaired 
the  occasion  of  confirming  my  dynasty  abroad,  which 
Clarence  lost.  But,  no  matter!  Of  these  things  we 
will  sj3eak  anon.  Say  nought  to  Richard  till  time 
ripens  maturer  resolutions:  he  is  a  youth  yet.  What 
strange  tidings  are  these  from  Lincolnshire  1  " 

"The  house  of  your  purveyor,  Sir  Robert  de  Burgh, 
is  burned,  —  his  lands  wasted.  The  rebels  are  headed 
by  lords  and  knights.  Robin  of  Redesdale,  who, 
methinks,  bears  a  charmed  life,  has  even  ventured  to 
rouse  the  disaffected  in  my  brother's  very  shire  of 
Warwick." 

"  Oh,  Henry,"  exclaimed  the  king,  casting  his  eyes 
towards  the  turret  that  held  his  captive,  "  well  mightst 
thou  call  a  crown  '  a  wreath  of  thorns !  '  " 

"I  have  already,"  said  the  archbishop,  "despatched 
couriers  to  my  brother,  to  recall  him  from  Warwick, 
whither  he  went  on  quitting  your  Highness.  I  have 
done  more,  —  prompted  by  a  zeal  that  draws  me  from 
the  care  of  the  church  to  that  of  the  state,  I  have  sum- 
moned the  Lords  St.  John,  De  Fulke,  and  others,  to 
my  house  of  the  More;  —  praying  your  Highness  to 
deign  to  meet  them,  and  well  sure  that  a  smile  from 
your  princely  lips  will  regain  their  hearts  and  confirm 
their  allegiance,  at  a  moment  when  new  perils  require 
all  strong  arms." 

"  You  have  done  most  wisely.  I  will  come  to  your 
palace,  —  appoint  your  own  day." 

"  It  will  take  some  days  for  the  barons  to  arrive  from 
their  castles.      I  fear  not  ere  the  tenth  day  from  this. " 

"Ah!  "  said  the  king,  with  a  vivacity  that  surprised 
his  listeners,  aware  of  his  usual  impetuous  energy,  "  the 


104         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

delay  will  but  befriend  us;  as  for  Warwick,  permit  me 
to  alter  your  arrangements:  let  him  employ  the  interval, 
not  in  London,  where  he  is  useless,  but  in  raising  men 
in  the  neighborhood  of  his  castle,  and  in  defeating  the 
treason  of  this  Redesdale  knave.  We  will  give  com- 
mission to  him,  and  to  Clarence,  to  levy  troops,  — 
Hastings,  see  to  this  forthwith.  Ye  say  Sir  Robert 
Welles  leads  the  Lincolnshire  varlets ;  I  know  the 
nature  of  his  father,  the  Lord  Welles, — a  fearful  and 
timorous  one:  I  will  send  for  him,  and  the  father's 
head  shall  answer  for  the  son's  faith.  Pardon  me, 
dear  cousin,  that  I  leave  you  to  attend  these  matters. 
Prithee  visit  our  queen,  meanwhile  she  holds  you  our 
guest. " 

"  Nay,  your  Highness  must  vouchsafe  my  excuse;  I 
also  have  your  royal  interests  too  much  at  heart  to  while 
an  hour  in  my  pleasurement.  I  will  but  see  the  friends 
of  our  house,  now  in  London,  and  then  back  to  the  More, 
and  collect  the  force  of  my  tenants  and  retainers." 

"  Ever  right,  fair  speed  to  you,  —  cardinal  that  shall 
be!     Your  arm,  Hastings. " 

The  king  and  his  favorite  took  their  way  into  the 
state  chambers. 

"  Abet  not  Gloucester  in  this  alliance,  —  abet  him 
not!"  said  the  king,   solemnly. 

"  Pause,  sire  !  This  alliance  gives  to  Warwick  a  wise 
counsellor,  instead  of  the  restless  Duke  of  Clarence. 
Reflect  what  danger  may  ensue  if  an  ambitious  lord, 
discontented  with  your  reign,  obtains  the  hand  of  the 
great  earl's  coheiress,  and  the  half  of  a  hundred  baronies 
that  command  an  army  larger  than  the  crown's." 

Though  these  reasonings,  at  a  calmer  time,  might 
well  have  had  their  effect  on  Edward,  at  that  moment 
they  were  little  heeded  by  his  passions.     He  stamped 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         105 

f 
his  foot  violently  on  the  floor.  "  Hastings  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, "  he  silent !  or —  "  He  stopped  short,  mastered 
his  emotion,  —  "  Go,  assemble  our  privy  council.  We 
have  graver  matters  than  a  boy's  marriage  now  to  think 
of." 

It  was  in  vain  that  Edward  sought  to  absorb  the  fire 
of  his  nature  in  state  affairs  in  all  needful  provisions 
against  the  impending  perils,  in  schemes  of  war  and 
vengeance.  The  fatal  frenzy  that  had  seized  him 
haunted  him  everywhere,  by  day  and  by  night.  For 
some  days  after  the  unsuspected  visit  which  he  had  so 
criminally  stolen  to  his  guest's  chamber,  something 
of  knightly  honor,  of  religious  scruple,  of  common 
reason,  —  awakened  in  him  the  more  by  the  dangers 
which  had  sprung  up,  and  which  the  ISTeviles  were  now 
actively  employed  in  defeating, — struggled  against  his 
guilty  desire,  and  roused  his  conscience  to  a  less  feeble 
resistance  than  it  usually  displayed  when  opposed  to 
passion;  but  the  society  of  Anne,  into  which  he  was 
necessarily  thrown  so  many  hours  in  the  day,  and  those 
hours  chiefly  after  the  indulgences  of  the  banquet,  was 
more  powerful  than  all  the  dictates  of  a  virtue  so  seldom 
exercised  as  to  have  none  of  the  strength  of  habit.  And 
as  the  time  drew  near  when  he  must  visit  the  arch- 
bishop, head  his  army  against  the  rebels  (whose  force 
daily  increased,  despite  the  captivity  of  Lord  Welles 
and  Sir  Thomas  Dymoke,  who,  on  the  summons  of  the 
king,  had  first  taken  sanctuary,  and  then  yielded  their 
persons  on  the  promise  of  pardon  and  safety),  ai 
restore  Anne  to  her  mother,  — as  this  time  drew  near, 
his  perturbation  of  mind  became  visible  to  the  whole 
court;  but,  with  the  instinct  of  his  native  craft,  he 
contrived  to  conceal  its  cause.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life  he  had  no  confidant,  —  he  did   not  dare  trust  his 


106         THE  LAST  OF  THE  B AEONS. 

secret  to  Hastings.  His  heart  gnawed  itself.  Neither, 
though  constantly  stealing  to  Anne's  side,  could  he 
venture  upon  language  that  might  startle  and  enlighten 
her.  He  felt  that  even  those  attentions,  which,  on  the 
first  evening  of  her  arrival,  had  been  noticed  by  the 
courtiers,  could  not  be  safely  renewed.  He  was  grave 
and  constrained,  even  when  by  her  side,  and  the  eti- 
quette of  the  court  allowed  him  no  opportunity  for 
unwitnessed  conference.  In  this  suppressed  and  unequal 
struggle  with  himself  the  time  passed,  till  it  was  now 
but  the  day  before  that  fixed  for  his  visit  to  the  More. 
And,  as  he  rose  at  morning  from  his  restless  couch,  the 
struggle  was  over,  and  the  soul  resolved  to  dare  the 
crime.  His  first  thought  was  to  separate  Anne  from 
Si  by  11.  He  affected  to  rebuke  the  queen  for  giving  to 
his  high-born  guest  an  associate  below  her  dignity,  and 
on  whose  character,  poor  girl,  rested  the  imputation  of 
witchcraft;  and  when  the  queen  replied  that  Lady 
Anne  herself  had  so  chosen,  he  hit  upon  the  expedient 
of  visiting  Warner  himself,  under  pretence  of  inspect- 
ing his  progress,  —  affected  to  be  struck  by  the  sickly 
appearance  of  the  sage,  and,  sending  for  Sibyll,  told 
her,  with  an  air  of  gracious  consideration,  that  her  first 
duty  was  to  attend  her  parent,  that  the  queen  released 
her,  for  some  days,  from  all  court  duties,  and  that  he 
had  given  orders  to  prepare  the  room  adjoining  Master 
Warner's,  and  held  by  Friar  Bungey  till  that  "worthy 
had  retired,  with  his  patroness,  from  the  court,  to  which 
she  would  for  the  present  remove. 

Sibyll,  wondering  at  this  novel  mark  of  consideration 
in  the  careless  king,  yet  imputing  it  to  the  high  value 
set  on  her  father's  labors,  thanked  Edward  with  simple 
earnestness,  and  withdrew.  In  the  anteroom  she  encoun- 
tered Hastings  on  his  way  to  the  king.     He  started  in 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         107 

surprise,  and  with  a  jealous  pang :  "  What !  thou,  Sibyll ! 
and  from  the  king's  closet!     What  led  thee  thither1?  " 

"His  Grace's  command."  And  too  noble  for  the 
pleasure  of  exciting  the  distrust  that  delights  frivolous 
minds  as  the  proof  of  power,  Sibyll  added,  "  The  king 
has  been  kindly  speaking  to  me  of  my  father's  health. " 
The  courtier's  brow  cleared,  —  he  mused  a  moment,  and 
said,  in  a  whisper,  "  I  beseech  thee  to  meet  me  an  hour 
hence  at  the  eastern  rampart." 

Since  the  return  of  Lord  Hastings  to  the  palace  there 
had  been  an  estrangement  and  distance  in  his  manner, 
ill  suiting  one  who  enjoyed  the  rights  of  an  accepted 
suitor,  and  wounding  alike  to  Sibyll 's  affection  and  her 
pride;  but  her  confidence  in  his  love  and  truth  was 
entire.  Her  admiration  for  him  partook  of  worship, 
and  she  steadily  sought  to  reason  away  any  causes  for 
alarm  by  recalling  the  state  cares  which  pressed  heavily 
upon  him,  and  whispering  to  herself  that  word  of 
"wife,"  which,  coming  in  passionate  music  from  those 
beloved  lips,  had  thrown  a  mist  over  the  present, — 
a  glory  over  the  future;  and  in  the  king's  retention 
of  Adam  Warner,  despite  the  Duchess  of  Bedford's 
strenuous  desire  to  carry  him  off  with  Friar  Bungey 
and  restore  him  to  his  tasks  of  alchemist  and  multi- 
plier, as  well  as  in  her  own  promotion  to  the  queen's 
service,  Sibyll  could  not  but  recognize  the  influence 
of  her  powerful  lover.  His  tones  now  were  tender, 
though  grave  and  earnest.  Surely,  in  the  meeting  he 
asked,  all  not  comprehended  would  be  explained.  And 
so,  with  a  light  heart  she  passed  on. 

Hastings  sighed  as  his  eye  followed  her  from  the 
room,  and  thus  said  he  to  himself,  "  Were  I  the  obscure 
gentleman  I  once  was,  how  sweet  a  lot  would  that  girl's 
love  choose  to  me  from  the  urn  of  fate !    But,  oh !  when 


108         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

we  taste  of  power  and  greatness,  and  master  the  world's 
dark  wisdom,  what  doth  love  shrink  to?  —  an  hour's 
bliss,  and  a  life's  folly."  His  delicate  lip  curled,  and 
breaking  from  his  soliloquy,  he  entered  the  king's 
closet.  Edward  was  resting  his  face  upon  the  palms 
of  his  hands,  and  his  bright  eyes  dwelt  upon  vacant 
space,  till  they  kindled  into  animation  as  they  lighted 
on  his  favorite. 

"  Dear  Will,"  said  the  king,  "  knowest  thou  that  men 
say  thou  art  bewitched  1  " 

"  Beau  sire,  often  have  men,  when  a  sweet  face  hath 
captured  thy  great  heart,  said  the  same  of  thee  !  " 

"  It  may  be  so  with  truth,  for  verily  love  is  the  arch- 
devil's  birth." 

The  king  rose,  and  strode  his  chamber  with  a  quick 
step;  at  last  pausing,  — ■ 

"  Hastings,"  he  said,  "so  thou  lovest  the  multiplier's 
pretty  daughter.  She  hath  just  left  me.  Art  thou 
jealous  1  " 

"  Happily,  your  Highness  sees  no  beauty  in  locks 
that  have  the  gloss  of  the  raven,  and  eyes  that  have 
the  hue  of  the  violet." 

"  Xo,  I  am  a  constant  man,  constant  to  one  idea  of 
beauty  in  a  thousand  forms,  —  eyes  like  the  summer's 
light-blue  sky,  and  locks  like  its  golden  sunbeams! 
But  to  set  thy  mind  at  rest,  Will,  know  that  I  have 
but  compassionated  the  sickly  state  of  the  scholar, 
whom  thou  prizest  so  highly;  and  I  have  placed  thy 
fair  Sibyll's  chamber  near  her  father's.  Young  Lovell 
says  thou  art.  bent  on  wedding  the  wizard's  daughter." 

"And  if  1  were,  beau  sire?" 

Edward  looked  grave. 

"  If  thou  wert,  my  poor  Will,  thou  wouldst  lose  all 
the  fame  for  shrewd  wisdom  which  justifies  thy  sudden 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BABONS.         109 

fortunes.  No,  no;  thou  art  the  flower  and  prince  of 
my  new  seignorie, — thou  must  mate  thyself  with  a 
name  and  a  barony  that  shall  he  worthy  thy  fame  and 
thy  prospects.  Love  beauty,  but  marry  power,  Will. 
In  vain  would  thy  king  draw  thee  up,  if  a  despised 
wife  draw  thee  down  !  " 

Hastings  listened  with  profound  attention  to  these 
words.  The  king  did  not  wait  for  his  answer,  but 
added,  laughingly,  — 

"  It  is  thine  own  fault,  crafty  gallant,  if  thou  dost 
not  end  all  her  spells." 

"  What  ends  the  spells  of  youth  and  beauty,  beau 
sire  ?  " 

"  Possession ! "  replied  the  king,  in  a  hollow  and 
muttered  voice. 

Hastings  was  about  to  answer,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  the  officer  in  waiting  announced  the  Duke  of 
Clarence. 

"Ha!"  said  Edward,  "George  comes,  to  importune 
me  for  leave  to  depart  to  the  government  of  Ireland, 
and  I  have  to  make  him  weet  that  I  think  my  Lord 
Worcester  a  safer  viceroy  of  the  two !  " 

"Your  Highness  will  pardon  me;  but,  though  I 
deemed  you  too  generous  in  the  appointment,  it  were 
dangerous  now  to  annul   it." 

"  More  dangerous  to  confirm  it.  Elizabeth  has  caused 
me  to  see  the  folly  of  a  grant  made  over  the  malmsey, 
—  a  wine,  by  the  way,  in  which  poor  George  swears 
he  would  be  content  to  drown  himself.  Viceroy  of 
Ireland!  My  father  had  that  government,  and  once 
tasting  the  sweets  of  royalty,  ceased  to  be  a  subject! 
No,  no,  Clarence  —  " 

"  Can    never    meditate    treason    against   a    brother's 


110         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

crown.     Has  he  the  wit,  or  the  energy,  or  the  genius, 
for  so  desperate  an  ambition  ?  " 

"No;  but  he  hath  the  vanity.  And  I  will  wager 
thee  a  thousand  marks  to  a  silver  penny  that  my  jester 
shall  talk  giddy  Georgie  into  advancing  a  claim  to  be 
soldan  of  Egypt,  or  pope  of  Rome  !  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         Ill 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Foster-Brothers. 

Sir  Maemaduke  Nevile  was  sunning  his  bravery  in 
the  Tower  Green,  amidst  the  other  idlers  of  the  court, 
proud  of  the  gold  chain  and  the  gold  spurs  which  attested 
his  new  rank,  and  not  grieved  to  have  exchanged  the 
solemn  walls  of  Middleham  for  the  gay  delights  of  the 
voluptuous  palace,  when,  to  his  pleasure  and  surprise, 
he  perceived  his  foster-brother  enter  the  gateway ;  and 
no  sooner  had  Nicholas  entered,  than  a  bevy  of  the 
younger  courtiers  hastened  eagerly  towards  him. 

"  Gramercy !  "  quoth  Sir  Marmaduke,  to  one  of  the 
bystanders,  "  what  hath  chanced  to  make  Nick  Alwyn 
a  man  of  such  note,  that  so  many  wings  of  satin  and 
pile  should  nutter  round  him  like  sparrows  round  an 
owl,  which,  by  the  Holy  Hood,  his  wise  face  somewhat 
resembleth." 

"  Know  you  not  that  Master  Alwyn,  since  he  hath 
commenced  trade  for  himself,  hath  acquired  already 
the  repute  of  the  couthliest  goldsmith  in  London?  No 
dague-hilts,  no  buckles  are  to  be  worn,  save  those  that 
he  fashions;  and  —  an  he  live,  and  the  House  of  York 
prosper  —  verily,  Master  Alwyn  the  goldsmith  will,  ere 
long,  be  the  richest  and  best  man  from  Mile-end  to  the 
Sanctuary." 

"Eight  glad  am  I  to  hear  it,"  said  honest  Marma- 
duke, heartily;  and  approaching  Alwyn,  he  startled  the 
precise  trader  by  a  friendly  slap  on  the  shoulder. 


112  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

"What,  man,  art  thou  too  proud  to  rememher  Mar- 
maduke Nevile!  Come  to  my  lodgment  yonder,  and 
talk  of  old  days  over  the  king's  canary." 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  dear  Master  Nevile." 

"  Master,  —  avaunt !  Sir  Marmaduke,  —  knighted  hy 
the  hand  of  Lord  Warwick,  —  Sir  Marmaduke  Nevile, 
lord  of  a  manor  he  hath  never  yet  seen,  soher  Alwyn." 

Then  drawing  his  foster-brother's  arm  in  his,  Mar- 
maduke led  him  to  the  chamber  in  which  he  lodged. 

The  young  men  spent  some  minutes  in  congratulating 
each  other  on  their  respective  advances  in  life:  the 
gentleman  who  had  attained  competence  and  station, 
simply  by  devotion  to  a  powerful  patron,  —  the  trader, 
who  had  already  won  repute  and  the  prospect  of  wealth, 
by  ingenuity,  application,  and  toil;  and  yet,  to  do  jus- 
tice, as  much  virtue  went  to  Marmaduke's  loyalty 
to  Warwick,  as  to  Alwyn's  capacities  for  making  a 
fortune.  Mutual  compliments  over,  Alwyn  said, 
hesitatingly,  — 

"  And  dost  thou  find  Mistress  Sibyl  1  more  gently 
disposed  to  thee  than  when  thou  didst  complain  to  me 
of  her  cruelty  1  " 

"Marry,  good  Nicholas,  I  will  be  frank  with  thee. 
When  I  left  the  court  to  follow  Lord  Warwick,  there 
were  rumors  of  the  gallantries  of  Lord  Hastings  to  the 
girl,  which  grieved  me  to  the  heart.  I  spoke  to  her 
thereof  bluntly  and  honorably,  and  got  but  high  looks 
and  scornful  words  in  return.  Good  fellow,  T  thank 
thee  for  that  squeeze  of  the  hand  and  that  doleful  sigh. 
In  my  absence  at  Middleham,  I  strove  hard  to  forget 
one  who  cared  so  little  for  me.  My  dear  Alwyn,  those 
Yorkshire  lasses  are  parlously  come]y,  and  mighty  douce 
and  debonnaire.  So  I  stormed  cruel  Sibyll  out  of  my 
heart,  perforce  of  numbers." 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   B AEONS.  113 

"  And  thou  lovest  her  no  more  1  " 

"  Not  I,  hy  this  goblet !  On  coming  back,  it  is  true, 
I  felt  pleased  to  clank  my  gold  spurs  in  her  presence, 
and  curious  to  see  if  my  new  fortunes  would  bring  out 
a  smile  of  approval;  and  verily,  to  speak  sooth,  the 
donzell  was  kind  and  friendly,  and  spoke  to  me  so 
cheerly  of  the  pleasure  she  felt  in  my  advancement,  that 
I  adventured  again  a  few  words  of  the  old  folly.  But 
my  lassie  drew  up  like  a  princess,  and  I  am  a  cured 
man." 

"  By  your  troth  1  " 

"  By  my  troth  !  " 

Alwyn's  head  sank  on  his  bosom  in  silent  thought. 
Sir  Marmaduke  emptied  his  goblet;  and  really  the 
young  knight  looked  so  fair  and  so  gallant  in  his  new 
surcoat  of  velvet,  that  it  was  no  marvel  if  he  should 
find  enough  food  for  consolation  in  a  court  where  men 
spent  six  hours  a  day  in  making  love,  —  nor  in  vain. 

"And  what  say  they  still  of  the  Lord  Hastings?" 
asked  Alwyn,  breaking  silence.  "Nothing,  I  trow  and 
trust,  that  arraigns  the  poor  lady's  honor, — though 
much  that  may  scoff  at  her  simple  faith  in  a  nature  so 
vain  and  fickle1?  '  The  tongue  's  not  steel,  yet  it  cuts,' 
as  the  proverb  saith  of  the  slanderer. " 

"No!  scandal  spares  her  virtue  as  woman, — to  run 
down  her  cunning  as  witch  !  They  say  that  Hastings 
hath  not  prevailed,  nor  sought  to  prevail, — that  he 
is  spellbound.  By  St.  Thomas,  from  a  maid  of  such 
character,    Marmaduke  Nevile  is  happily  rescued!" 

"  Sir  Marmaduke,"  then  said  Alwyn,  in  a  grave  and 
earnest  voice,  —  "  it  behooves  me,  as  true  friend,  though 
humble,  and  as  honest  man,  to  give  thee  my  secret  in 
return  for  thine  own.  I  love  this  girl.  Ay,  ay!  thou 
thinkest  that  love  is  a  strange  word    in  a  craftsman's 

VOL.  II.  —  8 


114         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

lips,  but  '  cold  flint  hides  hot  fire.'  I  would  not  have 
been  thy  rival,  Heaven  forefend !  hadst  thou  still  cher- 
ished a  hope,  —  or  if  thou  now  wilt  forbid  my  aspiring ; 
but  if  thou  wilt  not  say  me  nay,  I  will  try  my  chance 
in  delivering  a  pure  soul  from  a  crafty  wooer." 

Marmaduke  stared  in  great  surprise  at  his  foster- 
brother;  and  though,  no  doubt,  he  spoke  truth,  when 
he  said  he  was  cured  of  his  love  for  Sibyll,  he  yet  felt 
a  sort  of  jealousy  at  Alwyn's  unexpected  confession, 
and  his  vanity  was  hurt  at  the  notion  that  the  plain- 
visaged  trader  should  attempt  where  the  handsome 
gentleman  had  failed.  However,  his  blunt,  generous, 
manly  nature,  after  a  brief  struggle,  got  the  better  of 
these  sore  feelings,  and  holding  out  his  hand  to  Alwyn, 
he  said,  "  My  dear  foster-brother,  try  the  hazard  and 
cast  thy  dice,  if  thou  wilt.  Heaven  prosper  thee,  if 
success  be  for  thine  own  good !  But  if  she  be  really 
given  to  witchcraft  (plague  on  thee,  man,  sneer  not  at 
the  word),  small  comfort  to  bed  and  hearth  can  such 
practices  bring!  " 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Alwyn,  "  the  witchcraft  is  on  the  side 
of  Hastings,  — the  witchcraft  of  fame  and  rank,  and  a 
glozing  tongue  and  experienced  art.  But  she  shall  not 
fall,  if  a  true  arm  can  save  her;  and  '  though  Hope  be 
a  small  child,  she  can  carry  a  great  anchor!  '  " 

These  words  were  said  so  earnestly,  that  they  opened 
new  light  into  Marmaduke's  mind,  and  his  native 
generosity  standing  in  lieu  of  intellect,  he  compre- 
hended sympathetically  the  noble  motives  which  actu- 
ated the  son  of  commerce. 

"  My  poor  Alwyn,"  he  said,  "  if  thou  canst  save  this 
young  maid,  —  whom,  by  my  troth,  I  loved  well,  and 
who  tells  me  yet  that  she  loveth  me  as  a  sister  loves, 
—  right  glad  shall  I  be.      But  thou  stakest  thy  peace 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKOXS.         115 

of  mind  against  hers:  fair  luck  to  thee,  say  I  again,  — ■ 
and  if  thou  wilt  risk  thy  chance  at  once  (for  suspense  is 
love's  purgatory) ,  seize  the  moment.  I  saw  Sibyll,  just 
ere  we  met,  pass  to  the  ramparts  alone;  at  this  sharp 
season  the  place  is  deserted, — go." 

"  I  will,  this  moment!  "  said  Alwyn,  rising  and 
turning  very  pale;  but  as  he  gained  the  door,  he  halted, 
—  "I  had  forgot,  Master  Nevile,  that  I  bring  the  king 
his  signet-ring,  new  set,  of  the  falcon  and  fetter-lock." 

"  They  will  keep  thee  three  hours  in  the  anteroom. 
The  Duke  of  Clarence  is  now  with  the  king.  Trust  the 
ring  to  me,  —  I  shall  see  his  Highness  ere  he  dines. " 

Even  in  his  love,  Alwyn  had  the  Saxon's  considera- 
tions of  business;  he  hesitated,  "May  I  not  endanger 
thereby  the  king's  favor  and  loss  of  custom?  "  said  the 
trader. 

"Tush,  man!  little  thou  knowest  King  Edward;  he 
cares  nought  for  the  ceremonies:  moreover,  the  Neviles 
are  now  all-puissant  in  favor.  I  am  here  in  attendance 
on  sweet  Lady  Anne,  whom  the  king  loves  as  a  daughter, 
though  too  young  for  sire  to  so  well-grown  a  donzell ; 
and  a  word  from  her  lip,  if  need  be,  will  set  all  as 
smooth  as  this  gorget  of  lawn  !  " 

Tims  assured,  Alwyn  gave  the  ring  to  his  friend, 
and  took  his  way  at  once  to  the  ramparts.  Marmaduke 
remained  behind  to  finish  the  canary  and  marvel  how  so 
sober  a  man  should  form  so  ardent  a  passion.  Nor  was 
he  much  less  surprised  to  remark  that  his  friend,  though 
still  speaking  with  a  strong  provincial  accent,  and  still 
sowing  his  discourse  with  rustic  saws  and  proverbs,  had 
risen  in  language  and  in  manner  with  the  rise  of  his 
fortunes.  "An  he  go  on  so,  and  become  lord  mayor," 
muttered  Marmaduke,  "  verily  he  will  half  look  like  a 
gentleman !  " 


116         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

To  these  meditations  the  young  knight  was  not  long 
left  in  peace.  A  messenger  from  Warwick  House 
sought  and  found  him,  with  the  news  that  the  earl 
was  on  his  road  to  London,  and  wished  to  see  Sir 
Marmaduke  the  moment  of  his  arrival,  which  was 
hourly  expected.  The  young  knight's  hardy  brain, 
somewhat  flustered  by  the  canary,  Alwyn's  secret,  and 
this  sudden  tidings,  he  hastened  to  obey  his  chief's 
summons,  and  forgot,  till  he  gained  the  earl's  mansion, 
the  signet-ring  intrusted  to  him  by  Alwyn.  "  What 
matters  it?  "  said  he  then,  philosophically,  — "  the  king 
hath  rings  eno'  on  his  fingers  not  to  miss  one  for  an  hour 
or  so,  and  I  dare  not  send  any  one  else  with  it.  Marry, 
I  must  plunge  my  head  in  cold  water,  to  get  rid  of  the 
fumes  of  the  wine." 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAIIONS.  117 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Lover  and  the  Gallant  —  Woman's  Choice. 

Alwyn  bent  his  way  to  the  ramparts,  a  part  of  which 
then  resembled  the  boulevards  of  a  French  town,  having 
rows  of  trees,  green  sward,  a  winding  walk,  and  seats 
placed  at  frequent  intervals,  for  the  repose  of  the  loun- 
gers. During  the  summer  evenings,  the  place  was  a 
favorite  resort  of  the  court  idlers ;  but  now,  in  winter, 
it  was  usually  deserted,  save  by  the  sentries,  placed  at 
distant  intervals.  The  trader  had  not  gone  far  in  his 
quest,  when  he  perceived,  a  few  paces  before  him,  the 
very  man  he  had  most  cause  to  dread;  and  Lord  Hast- 
ings, hearing  the  sound  of  a  footfall  amongst  the  crisp, 
faded  leaves  that  strewed  the  path,  turned  abruptly  as 
Alwyn  approached  his  side. 

At  the  sight  of  his  formidable  rival,  Alwyn  had 
formed  one  of  those  resolutions  which  occur  only  to 
men  of  his  decided,  plain-spoken,  energetic  character. 
His  distinguishing  shrewdness  and  penetration  had  given 
him  considerable  insight  into  the  nobler  as  well  as  the 
weaker  qualities  of  Hastings;  and  his  hope  in  the  former 
influenced  the  determination  to  which  he  came.  The 
reflections  of  Hastings  at  that  moment  were  of  a  nature 
to  augur  favorably  to  the  views  of  the  humbler  lover; 
for,  during  the  stirring  scenes  in  which  his  late  absence 
from  Sibyll  had  been  passed,  Hastings  had  somewhat 
recovered  from  her  influence ;  and  feeling  the  difficulties 
of  reconciling  his  honor  and  his  worldly  prospects  to  fur- 
ther prosecution  of  the   love,   rashly  expressed   but  not 


118         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

deeply  felt,  lie  had  determined  frankly  to  cut  the  Gordian 
knot  he  could  not  solve,  and  inform  Sibyll  that  marriage 
between  them  was  impossible.  With  that  view  he  had 
appointed  this  meeting,  and  his  conference  with  the  king 
but  confirmed  his  intention. 

It  was  in  this  state  of  mind  that  he  was  thus  accosted 
by  Alwyn :  — 

"  My  lord,  may  I  make  bold  to  ask,  for  a  few  moments, 
your  charitable  indulgence  to  words  you  may  deem 
presumptuous  1 " 

"  Be  brief,  then,  Master  Alwyn, —  I  am  waited  for." 

"  Alas,  my  lord !  I  can  guess  by  whom :  by  the  one 
whom  I  seek  myself, —  by  Sibyll  Warner?" 

"How,  Sir  Goldsmith!"  said  Hastings,  haughtily, — 
"  what  knowest  thou  of  my  movements,  and  what  care 
I  for  thine  1  " 

"Hearken,  my  Lord  Hastings,  —  hearken!"  said 
Alwyn,  repressing  his  resentment,  and  in  a  voice  so 
earnest  that  it  riveted  the  entire  attention  of  the  listener, 
—  "hearken  and  judge  not  as  noble  judges  craftsman, 
but  as  man  should  judge  man.  As  the  saw  saith,  <  We 
all  lie  alike  in  our  graves.'  From  the  first  moment  I 
saw  this  Sibyll  Warner  I  loved  her.  Yes;  smile  dis- 
dainfully, but  listen  still.  She  was  obscure  and  in 
distress.  I  loved  her  not  for  her  fair  looks  alone, —  I 
loved  her  for  her  good  gifts,  for  her  patient  industry, 
for  her  filial  duty,  for  her  struggles  to  give  bread  to 
her  father's  board.  I  did  not  say  to  myself,  <  This  girl 
will  make  a  comely  fere,  —  a  delicate  paramour!'  I  said, 
'  This  good  daughter  will  make  a  wife  whom  an  honest 
man  may  take  to  his  heart  and  cherish. '  "  Poor  Alwyn 
stopped,  with  tears  in  his  voice,  struggled  with  his 
emotions,  and  pursued  :  "  My  fortunes  were  more  prom- 
ising than  hers;    there  was  no  cause  why  I  might  not 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAEOXS.         119 

hope.  True,  I  had  a  rival  then:  young  as  myself, — 
better  born,  comelier;  but  she  loved  him  not.  I  foresaw 
that  his  love  for  her  —  if  love  it  were  —  would  cease. 
Methought  that  her  mind  would  understand  mine;  as 
mine  —  verily  I  say  it  —  yearned  for  hers!  I  could  not 
look  on  the  maidens  of  mine  own  rank,  and  who  had 
lived  around  me,  but  what  —  oh,  no,  my  lord,  again  I 
say,  not  the  beauty,  but  the  gifts,  the  mind,  the  heart 
of  Sibyll,  threw  them  all  into  the  shade.  You  may 
think  it  strange  that  I  —  a  plain,  steadfast,  trading, 
working,  careful  man  —  should  have  all  these  feelings ; 
but  I  will  tell  you  wherefore  such  as  I  sometimes  have 
them,  nurse  them,  brood  on  them,  more  than  you  lords 
and  gentlemen,  with  all  your  graceful  arts  in  pleasing. 
We  know  no  light  loves  !  no  brief  distractions  to  the 
one  arch  passion  !  We  sober  sons  of  the  stall  and  the 
ware  are  no  general  gallants, —  we  love  plainly,  we  love 
but  once,  and  we  love  heartily.  But  who  knows  not  the 
proverb,  '  What 's  a  gentleman  but  his  pleasure  1  '  — 
and  what 's  pleasure  but  change  1  When  Sibyll  came  to 
the  palace,  I  soon  heard  her  name  linked  with  yours ;  I 
saw  her  cheek  blush  when  you  spoke.  Well  —  well  — 
well !  after  all,  as  the  old  wives  tell  us,  '  blushing  is 
virtue's  livery.'  I  said,  'She  is  a  chaste  and  high- 
hearted girl.'  This  will  pass,  and  the  time  will  come 
when  she  can  compare  your  love  and  mine.  Now,  my 
lord,  the  time  has  come,  —  I  know  that  you  seek  her. 
Yea,  at  this  moment,  I  know  that  her  heart  beats  for 
your  footstep.  Say  but  one  word,  say  that  you  love 
Sibyll  Warner  with  the  thought  of  wedding  her,  —  say 
that,  on  your  honor,  noble  Hastings,  as  gentleman  and 
peer,  and  I  will  kneel  at  your  feet,  and  beg  your  pardon 
for  my  vain  follies,  and  go  back  to  my  ware,  and  work, 
and   not   repine.      Say  it!     You   are  silent!      Then   I 


120         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

implore  you,  still  as  peer  and  gentleman,  to  let  the 
honest  love  save  the  maiden  from  the  wooing  that  will 
blight  her  peace  and  blast  her  name!  And  now,  Lord 
Hastings,  I  wait  your  gracious  answer." 

The  sensations  experienced  by  Hastings,  as  Alwyn 
thus  concluded,  were  manifold  and  complicated;  but, 
at  the  first,  admiration  and  pity  were  the  strongest. 

"My  poor  friend,"  said  he,  kindly,  "if  you  thus  love 
a  demoiselle  deserving  all  my  reverence,  your  words 
and  your  thoughts  bespeak  you  no  unworthy  pretender; 
but  take  my  counsel,  good  Alwyn.  Come  not — thou 
from  the  Chepe  —  come  not  to  the  court  for  a  wife. 
Forget  this  fantasy." 

"  My  lord,  it  is  impossible!  Forget  I  cannot, —  regret 
I  may." 

"  Thou  canst  not  succeed,  man, "  resumed  the  noble- 
man, more  coldly,  "  nor  couldst  if  William  Hastings 
had  never  lived.  The  eyes  of  women  accustomed  to 
gaze  on  the  gorgeous  externals  of  the  world,  are  blinded 
to  plain  worth  like  thine.  It  might  have  been  different 
had  the  donzell  never  abided  in  a  palace ;  but,  as  it  is, 
brave  fellow,  learn  how  these  wounds  of  the  heart  scar 
over,  and  the  spot  becomes  hard  and  callous  evermore. 
What  art  thou,  Master  Nicholas  Alwyn,"  continued 
Hastings,  gloomily,  and  with  a  withering  smile  — 
"  what  art  thou,  to  ask  for  a  bliss  denied  to  me,  to 
all  of  us:  the  bliss  of  carrying  poetry  into  life,  youth 
into  manhood,  by  winning  —  the  First  Loved  ?  But 
think  not,  sir  lover,  that  I  say  this  in  jealousy  or  dis- 
paragement. Look  yonder,  by  the  leafless  elm,  the 
white  robe  of  Sibyll  Warner.      Go  and  plead  thy  suit. " 

"  Do  I  understand  you,  my  lord  1  "  said  Alwyn,  some- 
what confused  and  perplexed  by  the  tone  and  the  manner 
Hastings  adopted.  "  Does  report  err,  and  you  do  not 
love  this  maiden  1  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         121 

"  Fair  master^ "  returned  Hastings,  scornfully,  "  thou 
hast  no  right  that  I  trow  of  to  pry  into  my  thoughts 
and  secrets;  I  cannot  acknowledge  my  judge  in  thee, 
good  jeweller  and  goldsmith,  —  enough,  surely,  in  all 
courtesy,  that  I  yield  thee  the  precedence.  Tell  thy 
tale,  as  movingly,  if  thou  wilt,  as  thou  hast  told  it  to 
me ;  say  of  me  all  that  thou  fanciest  thou  hast  reason  to 
suspect;  and  if,  Master  Alwyn,  thou  woo  and  win  the 
lady,   fail  not  to  ask  me  to  thy  wedding!  " 

There  was  in  this  speech,  and  the  bearing  of  the 
speaker,  that  superb  levity,  that  inexpressible  and  con- 
scious superiority,  that  cold  ironical  tranquillity,  which 
awe  and  humble  men  more  than  grave  disdain  or  imperi- 
ous passion.  Alwyn  ground  his  teeth  as  he  listened, 
and  gazed  in  silent  despair  and  rage  upon  the  calm  lord. 
Neither  of  these  men  could  strictly  be  called  handsome. 
Of  the  two,  Alwyn  had  the  advantage  of  more  youthful 
prime,  of  a  taller  stature,  of  a  more  powerful,  though 
less  supple  and  graceful,  frame.  In  their  very  dress, 
there  was  little  of  that  marked  distinction  between  classes 
which  then  usually  prevailed,  for  the  dark  cloth  tunic 
and  surcoat  of  Hastings  made  a  costume  even  simpler 
tban  the  bright-colored  garb  of  the  trader,  with  its  broad 
trimmings  of  fur,  and  its  aiglettes  of  elaborate  lace. 
Between  man  and  man,  then,  where  was  the  visible,  the 
mighty,  the  insurmountable  difference  in  all  that  can 
charm  the  fancy  and  captivate  the  eye,  which,  as  he 
gazed,  Alwyn  confessed  to  himself  there  existed  between 
the  two  1  Alas!  how  the  distinctions  least  to  be  analyzed 
are  ever  the  sternest!  What  lofty  ease  in  that  high-bred 
air ;  what  histories  of  triumph  seemed  to  speak  in  that 
quiet  eye,  sleeping  in  its  own  imperious  lustre ;  what 
magic  of  command  in  that  pale  brow ;  what  spells  of 
persuasion  in  that  artful  lip !     Alwyn  muttered  to  him- 


122         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

self,  bowed  his  head  involuntarily,  and  passed  on  at  once 
from  Hastings  to  Sibyll,  who  now,  at  the  distance  of 
some  yards,  had  arrested  her  steps,  in  surprise  to  see  the 
conference  between  the  nobleman  and  the  burgher. 

But  as  he  approached  Sibyll,  poor  Alwyn  felt  all  the 
firmness  and  courage  he  had  exhibited  with  Hastings 
melt  away.  And  the  trepidation  which  a  fearful  but 
deep  affection  ever  occasions  in  men  of  his  character, 
made  his  movements  more  than  usually  constrained 
and  awkward,  as  he  cowered  beneath  the  looks  of  the 
maid  he  so  truly  loved. 

"  Seekest  thou  me,  Master  Alwyn  1  "  asked  Sibyll, 
gently,  seeing  that,  though  he  paused  by  her  side,  he 
spoke  not. 

"  I  do, "  returned  Alwyn,  abruptly,  and  again  he  was 
silent. 

At  length,  lifting  his  eyes  and  looking  round  him, 
he  saw  Hastings  at  the  distance,  leaning  against  the 
rampart,  with  folded  arms,  and  the  contrast  of  his 
rival's  cold  and  arrogant  indifference,  and  his  own 
burning  veins  and  bleeding  heart,  roused  up  his  manly 
spirit,  and  gave  to  his  tongue  the  eloquence  which 
emotion  gams  when  it  once  breaks  the  fetters  it  forges 
to  itself. 

"  Look  —  look,  Sibyll !  "  he  said,  pointing  to  Hast- 
ings,—  "look!  that  man  you  believe  loves  you?  —  if 
so  —  if  he  loved  thee,  would  he  stand  yonder  —  mark 
him  —  aloof,  contemptuous,  careless  — ■  while  he  knew 
that  I  was  by  your  side  1  " 

Sibyll  turned  upon  the  goldsmith  eyes  full  of  inno- 
cent surprise,  eyes  that  asked,  plainly  as  eyes  could 
speak,  "  And  wherefore  not,   Master  Alwyn  ?  " 

Alwyn  so  interpreted  the  look,  and  replied,  as  if  she 
had   spoken,    "  Because  he    must    know    how    poor    and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         123 

tame  is  that  feeble  fantasy,  which  alone  can  come  from 
a  soul,  worn  bare  with  pleasure,  to  that  which  I  feel 
and  now  own  for  thee,  —  the  love  of  youth,  born  of  the 
heart's  first  vigor;  because  he  ought  to  fear  that  that 
love  should  prevail  with  thee;  because  that  love  ought 
to  prevail.  Sibyll,  between  us,  there  are  not  imparity 
and  obstacle.  Oh,  listen  to  me,  —  listen  still !  Frown 
not,  —  turn  not  away. "  And,  stung  and  animated  by 
the  sight  of  his  rival,  fired  by  the  excitement  of  a  con- 
test on  which  the  bliss  of  his  own  life  and  the  weal  of 
Sibyll's  might  depend,  his  voice  was  as  the  cry  of  a 
mortal  agony,  and  affected  the  girl  to  the  inmost  recesses 
of  her  soul. 

"Oh,  Alwyn,  I  frown  not!"  she  said,  sweetly,  — 
"  oh,  Alwyn,  I  turn  not  away !  Woe  is  me  to  give 
pain  to  so  kind  and  brave  a  heart ;  but  —  " 

"  No,  speak  not  yet.  I  have  studied  thee,  —  I  have 
read  thee  as  a  scholar  would  read  a  book.  I  know 
thee  proud,  I  know  thee  aspiring,  —  I  know  thou  art 
vain  of  thy  gentle  blood,  and  distasteful  of  my  yeoman's 
birth.  There,  I  am  not  blind  to  thy  faults,  but  I  love 
thee  despite  them;  and  to  please  those  faults,  I  have 
toiled,  schemed,  dreamed,  risen,  —  I  offer  to  thee  the 
future  with  the  certainty  of  a  man  who  can  command  it. 
Wouldst  thou  wealth  1  —  be  patient  (as  ambition  ever 
is) :  in  a  few  years  thou  shalt  have  more  gold  than  the 
wife  of  Lord  Hastings  can  command;  thou  shalt  lodge 
more  statelily,  fare  more  sumptuously ; *  thou  shalt  walk 
on  cloth  of  gold  if  thou  wilt !  Wouldst  thou  titles  1  — 
I  will  win  them.     Richard  de  la  Pole,  who  founded  the 

1  This  was  no  vain  promise  of  Master  Alwyn.  At  that  time,  a 
successful  trader  made  a  fortune  with  signal  rapidity,  and  eujoyed 
greater  luxuries  than  most  of  the  barons.  All  the  gold  in  the 
country  flowed  into  the  coffers  of  the  London  merchants. 


124        THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

greatest  duchy  in  the  realm,  was  poorer  than  I  when  he 
first  served  in  a  merchant's  ware.  Gold  buys  all  things 
now.      Oh,  would  to  heaven  it  could  hut  buy  me  thee  !  ' 

"  Master  Alwyn,  it  is  not  gold  that  buys  love.  Be 
soothed.  What  can  I  say  to  thee  to  soften  the  harsh 
word   'Nay?'" 

"  You  reject  me,  then,  and  at  once.  I  ask  not  your 
hand  now.  I  will  wait,  tarry,  hope,  —  I  care  not  if  for 
years ,  —  wait  till  I  can  fulfil  all  I  promise  thee !  " 

Sibyll,  affected  to  tears,  shook  her  head  mournfully; 
and  there  was  a  long  and  painful  silence.  Never  was 
wooing  more  strangely  circumstanced  than  this :  the  one 
lover  pleading  while  the  other  was  in  view,  —  the  one, 
ardent,  impassioned ;  the  other,  calm  and  passive,  —  and 
the  silence  of  the  last,  alas!  having  all  the  success  which 
the  words  of  the  other  lacked.  It  might  be  said  that  the 
choice  before  Sibyll  was  a  type  of  the  choice  ever  given, 
but  in  vain,  to  the  child  of  genius.  Here  a  secure  and 
peaceful  life,  an  honored  home,  a  tranquil  lot,  free  from 
ideal  visions,  it  is  true,  but  free  also  from  the  doubt  and  the 
terror,  the  storms  of  passion;  —  there,  the  fatal  influence 
of  an  affection,  born  of  imagination,  sinister,  equivocal, 
ominous,  but  irresistible.  And  the  child  of  genius  ful- 
filled her  destiny ! 

"  Master  Alwyn, "  said  Sibyll,  rousing  herself  to  the 
necessary  exertion,  "  I  shall  never  cease  gratefully  to 
recall  thy  generous  friendship,  — never  cease  to  pray 
fervently  for  thy  weal  below.  But  forever  and  forever 
let  this  content  thee, —  I  can  no  more." 

Impressed  by  the  grave  and  solemn  tone  of  Sibyll, 
Alwyn  hushed  the  groan  that  struggled  to  his  lips,  and 
gloomily  replied,  "  I  obey  you,  fair  mistress,  and  I  re- 
turn to  my  work-day  life ;  but  ere  I  go,  I  pray  you  mis- 
think  me  not  if  I  say  this  much;  —  not  alone  for  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  B AEONS.         125 

bliss  of  hoping  for  a  day  in  which  I  might  call  thee 
mine  have  I  thus  importuned ;  but,  not  less  —  I  swear 
not  less  —  from  the  soul's  desire  to  save  thee  from  what 
I  fear  will  but  lead  to  woe  and  wayment,  to  peril  and 
pain,  to  weary  days  and  sleepless  nights.  'Better  a 
little  fire  that  warms  than  a  great  that  burns. '  Dost  thou 
think  that  Lord  Hastings,  the  vain,  the  dissolute  —  " 

"Cease,  sir!"  said  Sibyll,  proudly,  "me  reprove  if 
thou  wilt,  but  lower  not  my  esteem  for  thee  by  slander 
against  another!  " 

"  What !  "  said  Alwyn,  bitterly ;  "  doth  even  one 
word  of  counsel  chafe  thee  1  I  tell  thee  that  if  thou 
dreamest  that  Lord  Hastings  loves  Sibyll  Warner  as 
man  doves  the  maiden  he  would  wed, —  thou  deceivest 
thyself  to  thine  own  misery.  If  thou  wouldst  prove  it, 
go  to  him  now, —  go  and  say,  '  Wilt  thou  give  me  that 
home  of  peace  and  honor, —  that  shelter  for  my  father's 
old  age,  under  a  son's  roof,  which  the  trader  I  despise 
proffers  me  in  vain  1 '  " 

"If  it  were  already  proffered  me, —  by  him?"  said 
Sibyll,  in  a  low  voice,  and  blushing  deeply. 

Alwyn  started.  "  Then  I  wronged  him ;  and  — 
and  — "  he  added,  generously,  though  with  a  faint 
sickness  at  his  heart,  "  I  can  yet  be  happy  in  thinking 
thou  art  so.  Farewell,  maiden,  the  saints  guard  thee 
from  one  memory  of  regret  at  what  hath  passed  be- 
tween us!  " 

He  pulled  his  bonnet  hastily  over  his  brows,  and 
departed  with  unequal  and  rapid  strides.  As  he  passed 
the  spot  where  Hastings  stood  leaning  his  arm  upon 
the  wall,  and  his  face  upon  his  hand,  the  nobleman 
looked  up,    and  said, — ■ 

"  Well,  Sir  Goldsmith,  own  at  least  that  thy  trial 
hath  been  a  fair  one !  "     Then,  struck  with  the  anguish 


126         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

written  upon  Alwyn's  face,  he  walked  up  to  him,  and, 
with  a  frank,  compassionate  impulse,  laid  his  hand  on 
his  shoulder.  "Alwyn,"  he  said,  "I  have  felt  what 
you  feel  now, —  I  have  survived  it,  and  the  world  hath 
not  prospered  with  me  less!  Take  with  you  a  compas- 
sion that  respects,  and  does  not  degrade  you." 

"  Do  not  deceive  her,  my  lord,  —  she  trusts  and  loves 
you!  You  never  deceived  man, —  the  wide  world  says 
it,  —  do  not  deceive  woman!  Deeds  kill  men,  —  words 
women!"  Speaking  thus  simply,  Alwyn  strode  on, 
and  vanished. 

Hastings  slowly  and  silently  advanced  to  Sibyll.  Her 
rejection  of  Alwyn  had  by  no  means  tended  to  reconcile 
him  to  the  marriage  he  himself  had  proffered.  He  might 
well  suppose  that  the  girl,  even  if  unguided  by  affection, 
would  not  hesitate  between  a  mighty  nobleman  and  an 
obscure  goldsmith.  His  pride  was  sorely  wounded  that 
the  latter  should  have  even  thought  himself  the  equal  of 
one  whom  he  had  proposed,  though  but  in  a  passionate 
impulse,  to  raise  to  his  own  state.  And  yet,  as  he  neared 
Sibyll,  and,  with  a  light  footstep,  she  sprang  forward  to 
meet  him,  her  eyes  full  of  sweet  joy  and  confidence,  he 
shrank  from  an  avowal  which  must  wither  up  a  heart 
opening  thus  all  its  bloom  of  youth  and  love  to  greet 
him. 

"  Ah,  fair  lord, "  said  the  maiden,  "  was  it  kindly  in 
thee  to  permit  poor  Alwyn  to  inflict  on  me  so  sharp  a 
pain,  and  thou  to  stand  calmly  distant?  Sure,  alas! 
that  had  thy  humble  rival  proffered  a  crown,  it  had  been 
the  same  to  Sibyll !  Oh,  how  the  grief  it  was  mine  to 
cause  grieved  me;  and  yet,  through  all,  I  had  one 
selfish,  guilty  gleam  of  pleasure,— to  think  that  I  had 
not  been  loved  so  well,  if  I  were  all  unworthy  the  sole 
love  I  desire  or  covet!  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         127 

"  And  yet,  Sibyl],  this  young  man  can,  in  all  save 
wealth  and  a  sounding  name,  give  thee  more  than  I 
can :  a  heart  undarkened  by  moody  memories,  —  a 
temper  unsoured  by  the  world's  dread  and  bitter  lore 
of  man's  frailty  and  earth's  sorrow.  Ye  are  not  far 
separated  by  ungenial  years,  and  might  glide  to  a  com- 
mon grave  hand  in  hand;  but  I,  older  in  heart  than  in 
age,  am  yet  so  far  thine  elder  in  the  last,  that  these 
hairs  will  be  gray,  and  this  form  bent,  while  thy  beauty 
is  in  its  prime,  and  —  but  thou  weepest !  " 

"  I  weep  that  thou  shouldst  bring  one  thought  of  time 
to  sadden  my  thoughts,  which  are  of  eternity.  Love 
knows  no  age,  —  it  foresees  no  grave!  its  happiness  and 
its  trust  behold  on  the  earth  but  one  glory,  melting 
into  the  hues  of  heaven,  where  they  who  love  last- 
ingly pass  calmly  on  to  live  forever!  See,  I  weep  not 
now!" 

"  And  did  not  this  honest  burgher, "  pursued  Hastings, 
softened  and  embarrassed,  but  striving  to  retain  his  cruel 
purpose,  "  tell  thee  to  distrust  me  ?  —  tell  thee  that  my 
vows  were  false  1  " 

"  Methinks,  if  an  angel  told  me  so,  T  should  disbelieve  !  " 

"  Why,  look  thee,  Sibyll,  suppose  his  warning  true, 
—  suppose  that,  at  this  hour,  I  sought  thee  with  intent 
to  say  that  that  destiny  which  ambition  weaves  for 
itself  forbade  me  to  fulfil  a  word  hotly  spoken  1  that 
I  could  not  wed  thee  ?  —  should  I  not  seem  to  thee  a 
false  wooer,  — a  poor  trifler  with  thy  earnest  heart,  — 
and  so,  couldst  thou  not  recall  the  love  of  him  whose 
truer  and  worthier  homage  yet  lingers  in  thine  ear,  and 
with  him  be  happy  1  " 

Sibyll  lifted  her  dark  eyes,  yet  humid,  upon  the 
tuirevealing  face  of  the  speaker,  and  gazed  on  him 
with    wistful    and     inquiring    sadness,    then,    shrinking 


128         THE  LAST  OF  THE  B AEONS. 

from  his  side,  she  crossed  her  arms  meekly  on  her 
bosom,  and  thus  said,  — 

"  If  ever,  since  we  parted,  one  such  thought  hath 
glanced  across  thee, —  one  thought  of  repentance  at  the 
sacrifice  of  pride,  or  the  lessening  of  power, —  which" 
(she  faltered,  broke  off  the  sentence,  and  resumed)  — 
"  in  one  word,  if  thou  wouldst  retract,  say  it  now,  and  I 
will  not  accuse  thy  falsehood,  but  bless  thy  truth." 

"  Thou  couldst  be  consoled,  then,  by  thy  pride  of 
woman,  for  the  loss  of  an  unworthy  lover?  " 

"  My  lord,  are  these  questions  fair  1  " 

Hastings  was  silent.  The  gentler  part  of  his  nature 
struggled  severely  with  the  harder.  The  pride  of  Sibyll 
moved  him  no  less  than  her  trust ;  and  her  love  in  both 
was  so  evident  —  so  deep,  so  exquisitely  contrasting  the 
cold  and  frivolous  natures  amidst  which  his  lot  had 
fallen  —  that  he  recoded  from  casting  away  forever  a 
heart  never  to  be  replaced.  Standing  on  that  bridge  of 
life,  with  age  before  and  youth  behind,  he  felt  that  never 
again  could  he  be  so  loved,  or,  if  so  loved,  by  one  so 
worthy  of  whatever  of  pure  affection,  of  young  romance, 
was  yet  left  to  his  melancholy  and  lonely  soul. 

He  took  her  hand,  and,  as  she  felt  its  touch,  her 
firmness  forsook  her,  her  head  drooped  upon  her  bosom, 
and  she  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears. 

"  Oh,  Sibyll,  forgive  me !  Smile  on  me  again, 
Sibyll!  "  exclaimed  Hastings,  subdued  and  melted. 
But,  alas!  the  heart,  once  bruised  and  galled,  recovers 
itself  but  slowly,  and  it  was  many  minutes  before  the 
softest  words  the  eloquent  lover  could  shape  to  sound 
sufficed  to  dry  those  burning  tears,  and  bring  back  the 
enchanting  smile, —  nay,  even  then  the  smile  was  forced 
and  joyless.  They  walked  on  for  some  moments,  both 
in  thought,  till  Hastings  said,    "  Thou  lovest  me,  SibylL 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         129 

and  art  worthy  of  all  the  love  that  man  can  feel  for 
maid;  and  yet,  canst  thou  solve  me  this  question,  nor 
chide  me  that  I  ask  it,  —  dost  thou  not  love  the  world 
and  the  world's  judgment  more  than  me  ?  What  is  that 
which  women  call  honor?  What  makes  them  shrink 
from  all  love  that  takes  not  the  form  and  circumstance 
of  the  world's  hollow  rites?  Does  love  cease  to  he  love, 
unless  over  its  wealth  of  trust  and  emotion  the  priest 
mouths  his  empty  hlessing  ?  Thou,  in  thy  graceful  pride, 
art  angered  if  I,  in  wedding  thee,  should  remember  the 
sacrifice  which  men  like  me  —  I  own  it  fairly  —  deem  as 
great  as  man  can  make;  and  yet  thou  wouldst  fly  my 
love,  if  it  wooed  thee  to  a  sacrifice  of  thine  own  ?  " 

Artfully  was  the  question  put,  and  Hastings  smiled  to 
himself  in  imagining  the  reply  it  must  bring;  and  then 
Sibyll  answered  with  the  blush  which  the  very  subject 
called  forth. 

"  Alas,  my  lord,  I  am  but  a  poor  casuist,  but  I  feel 
that  if  I  asked  thee  to  forfeit  whatever  men  respect 
—  honor,  and  repute  for  valor  —  to  be  traitor  and  das- 
tard, thou  couldst  love  me  no  more ;  and  marvel  you, 
if  when  man  wooes  woman  to  forfeit  all  that  her  sex 
holds  highest, —  to  be,  in  woman,  what  dastard  and 
traitor  is  in  man, —  she  hears  her  conscience  and  her 
God  speak  in  a  louder  voice  than  can  come  from  a 
human  lip  ?  The  goods  and  pomps  of  the  world  we 
are  free  to  sacrifice,  and  true  love  heeds  and  counts 
them  not,  but  true  love  cannot  sacrifice  that  which 
makes  up  love, —  it  cannot  sacrifice  the  right  to  be 
loved  below,  the  hope  to  love  on  in  the  realm  above, 
the  power  to  pray  with  a  pure  sold  for  the  happiness 
it  yearns  to  make,  the  blessing  to  seem  ever  good  and 
honored  in  the  eyes  of  the  one  by  whom  alone  it 
would  be  judged,  —  and  therefore,  sweet  lord,  true  love 

VOL   II.  —  9 


130         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

never  contemplates  this  sacrifice ;  and,  if  once  it  believe 
itself  truly  loved,  it  trusts  with  a  fearless  faith  in  the 
love  on  which  it  leans." 

"  Sibyll,  would  to  Heaven  I  had  seen  thee  in  my 
youth!  Would  to  Heaven  I  were  more  worthy  of 
thee!  "  And  in  that  interview  Hastings  had  no  heart 
to  utter  what  he  had  resolved,  "  Sibyll,  I  sought  thee 
but  to  say,  Farewell." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         131 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Warwick  returns  —  Appeases  a  Discontented  Prince  —  And  con- 
fers with  a  Revengeful  Conspirator. 

It  was  not  till  late  in  the  evening  that  Warwick  arrived 
at  his  vast  residence  in  London,  where  he  found  not 
only  Marinaduke  Nevile  ready  to  receive  him,  hut  a 
more  august  expectant,  in  George  Duke  of  Clarence. 
Scarcely  had  the  earl  crossed  the  threshold,  when  the 
duke  seized  his  arm,  and  leading  him  into  the  room 
that  adjoined  the  hall,   said,  — 

"  Verily,  Edward  is  besotted  no  less  than  ever  by  his 
wife's  leech-like  family.  Thou  knowest  my  appoint- 
ment to  the  government  of  Ireland;  Isabel,  like  myself, 
cannot  endure  the  subordinate  vassalage  we  must  brook 
at  the  court,  with  the  queen's  cold  looks  and  sour 
Avords.  Thou  knowest  also,  with  what  vain  pretexts 
Edward  hath  put  me  off;  and  now,  this  very  day,  lie 
tells  me  that  he  hath  changed  his  humor:  that  I  am  not 
stern  enough  for  the  Irish  kernes,  —  that  he  loves  me 
too  well  to  banish  me,  forsooth;  and  that  Worcester, 
the  people's  butcher,  but  the  queen's  favorite,  must 
have  the  post  so  sacredly  pledged  to  me.  I  see,  in 
this,  Elizabeth's  crafty  malice.  Is  this  struggle  between 
king's  blood  and  queen's  kith  to  go  on  forever?  " 

"  Calm  thyself,  George;  I  will  confer  with  the  king 
to-morrow,  and  hope  to  compass  thy  not  too  arrogant 
desire.  Certes,  a  king's  brother  is  the  fittest  vice- 
king  for  the  turbulent  kernes  of  Ireland,  who  are  ever 


132         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS. 

flattered  into  obeisance  by  ceremony  and  show.  The 
government  was  pledged  to  thee,  —  Edward  can  scarcely 
be  serious.  Moreover,  Worcester,  though  forsooth  a 
learned  man, —  (Mort  Dieu!  methinks  that  same  learn- 
ing fills  the  head  to  drain  the  heart !),  —  is  so  abhorred 
for  his  cruelties,  that  his  very  landing  in  Ireland  will 
bring  a  new  rebellion,  to  add  to  our  already  festering 
broils  and  sores.  Calm  thyself,  I  say.  Where  didst 
thou  leave  Isabel  1  " 

"With  my  mother." 

"  And  Anne  1  —  the  queen  chills  not  her  young  heart 
with  cold  grace?  " 

"Nay,  —  the  queen  dare  not  unleash  her  malice 
against  Edward's  will;  and,  to  do  him  justice,  he 
hath  shown  all  honor  to  Lord  Warwick's  daughter." 

"  He  is  a  gallant  prince,  with  all  his  faults,"  said  the 
father,  heartily,  "and  we  must  bear  with  him,  George; 
for  verily  he  hath  bound  men  by  a  charm  to  love  him. 
Stay,  thou,  and  share  my  hasty  repast,  and  over  the 
wine  we  will  talk  of  thy  views.  Spare  me  now  for  a 
moment;  I  have  to  prepare  work  eno'  for  a  sleepless 
night.  This  Lincolnshire  rebellion  promises  much 
trouble.  Lord  Willoughby  has  joined  it,  —  more  than 
twenty  thousand  men  are  in  arms.  I  have  already  sent 
to  convene  the  knights  and  barons  on  whom  the  king 
can  best  depend,  and  must  urge  their  instant  departure 
for  their  halls,  to  raise  men  and  meet  the  foe.  While 
Edward  feasts,  his  minister  must  toil.  Tarry  awhile 
till  I  return." 

The  earl  re-entered  the  hall,  and  beckoned  to  Mar- 
maduke,   who  stood  amongst  a  group  of  squires. 

"  Follow  me;  I  may  have  work  for  thee."  Warwick 
took  a  taper  from  one  of  the  servitors,  and  led  the  way 
to  his  own  more  private  apartment.      On  the  landing  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         133 

the  staircase,  by  a  small  door,  stood  his  body  squire, — 
"  Is  the  prisoner  within  1  " 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

"  Good  !  "  —  The  earl  opened  the  door  by  which  the 
squire  had  mounted  guard,  and  bade  Marmaduke  wait 
without. 

The  inmate  of  the  chamber,  whose  dress  bore  the 
stains  of  fresh  travel  and  hard  riding,  lifted  his  face 
hastily  as  the  earl  entered. 

"  Eobin  Hilyard,"  said  Warwick,  "I  have  mused 
much  how  to  reconcile  my  service  to  the  king,  with 
the  gratitude  I  owe  to  a  man  who  saved  me  from  great 
danger.  In  the  midst  of  thy  unhappy  and  rebellious 
designs,  thou  Avert  captured  and  brought  to  me;  the 
papers  found  on  thee  attest  a  Lancastrian  revolt:  so 
ripening  towards  a  mighty  gathering,  —  and  so  formid- 
able from  the  adherents  whom  the  gold  and  intrigues 
of  King  Louis  have  persuaded  to  risk  land  and  life  for 
the  Red  Eose,  that  all  the  king's  friends  can  do  to  save 
his  throne  is  now  needed.  In  this  revolt  thou  hast 
been  the  scheming  brain,  the  master  hand,  the  match  to 
the  bombard,  the  firebrand  to  the  flax.  Thou  smilest, 
man  !  Alas !  seest  thou  not  that  it  is  my  stern  duty 
to  send  thee,  bound  hand  and  foot,  before  the  king's 
council,  —  for  the  brake  to  wring  from  thee  thy  guilty 
secrets,  and  the  gibbet  to  close  thy  days?" 

"  I  am  prepared,"  said  Hilyard;  "when  the  bombard 
explodes,  the  match  has  become  useless,  —  when  the 
flame  smites  the  welkin,  the  firebrand  is  consumed!  " 

"  Bold  man !  what  seest  thou  in  this  rebellion  that 
can  profit  thee  1  " 

"  I  see,  looming  through  the  chasms  and  rents  made 
in  the  feudal  order  by  civil  war,  the  giant  image  of  a 
free  people." 


13-4  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

"And  thou  wouldst  be  a  martyr  for  the  multitude, 
who  deserted  thee  at  Olney  ?  " 

"  As  thou  for  the  king  who  dishonored  thee  at  Shene  !  " 

Warwick  frowned,  and  there  was  a  moment's  pause; 
at  last,  said  the  earl,  "  Look  you,  Robin,  I  would  fain 
not  have  on  my  hands  the  blood  of  a  man  who  saved 
my  life.  I  believe  thee,  though  a  fanatic  and  half- 
madman, —  I  believe  thee  true  in  word  as  rash  of  deed. 
Swear  to  me  on  the  cross  of  this  dagger,  that  thou  wilt 
lay  aside  all  scheme  and  plot  for  this  rebellion,  all  aid 
and  share  in  civil  broil  and  dissension,  and  thy  life 
and  liberty  are  restored  to  thee.  In  that  intent  I  have 
summoned  my  own  kinsman,  Marmaduke  Nevile.  He 
waits  without  the  door:  he  shall  conduct  thee  safely  to 
the  sea-shore,  —  thou  shalt  gain  in  peace  my  govern- 
ment of  Calais,  and  my  seneschal  there  shall  find  thee 
all  thou  canst  need:  meat  for  thy  hunger,  and  moneys 
for  thy  pastime.  Accept  my  mercy,  —  take  the  oath, 
and  begone." 

"My  lord,"  answered  Hilyard,  much  touched  and 
affected,  — "  blame  not  thyself  if  this  carcass  feed  the 
crows:  my  blood  be  on  mine  own  head!  I  cannot  take 
this  oath.  I  cannot  live  in  peace;  strife  and  broil  are 
grown  to  me  food  and  drink.  Oh,  my  lord!  thou 
knowest  not  what  dark  and  baleful  memories  made  me 
an  agent  in  God's  hand  against  this  ruthless  Edward;  " 
and  then  passionately,  with  whitening  lips  and  con- 
vulsive features,  Hilyard  recounted  to  the  startled  War- 
wick the  same  tale  which  had  roused  the  sympathy  of 
Adam  Warner. 

The  earl,  whose  affections  were  so  essentially  homely 
and  domestic,  was  even  more  shocked  than  the  scholar 
by  the  fearful  narrative. 

"Unhappy  man!"  he  said,  with  moistened  eyes, — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         135 

8  from  the  core  of  my  heart  I  pity  thee.  But  thou,  the 
scathed  sufferer  from  civil  war,  wilt  thou  be  now  its 
dread  reviver?  " 

"  If  Edward  had  wronged  thee,  great  earl,  as  me,  poor 
franklin,  what  would  be  thine  answer?  In  vain  mor- 
alize to  him  whom  the  spectre  of  a  murdered  child  and 
the  shriek  of  a  maniac  wife  haunt  and  hound  on  to 
vengeance !  So  send  me  to  rack  and  halter.  Be  there 
one  curse  more  on  the  soul  of  Edward!" 

"  Thou  shalt  not  die  through  my  witness,"  said  the 
earl,  abruptly,  and  he  quitted  the  chamber. 

Securing  the  door  by  a  heavy  bolt  on  the  outside,  he 
gave  orders  to  his  squire  to  attend  to  the  comforts  of  the 
prisoner;  and  then  turning  into  his  closet  with  Marma- 
duke,  said,  "  I  sent  for  thee,  young  cousin,  with  design 
to  commit  to  thy  charge  one  whose  absence  from  Eng- 
land I  deemed  needful,  —  that  design  I  must  abandon. 
Go  back  to  the  palace,  and  see,  if  thou  canst,  the  king 
before  he  sleeps,  —  say  that  this  rising  in  Lincolnshire 
is  more  than  a  riot;  it  is  the  first  burst  of  a  revolution ! 
that  I  hold  council  here  to-night,  and  every  shire,  ere 
the  morrow,  shall  have  its  appointed  captain.  I  will 
see  the  king  at  morning.  Yet  stay,  —  gain  sight  of  my 
child  Anne;  she  will  leave  the  court  to-morrow.  I 
will  come  for  her,  — bid  her  train  be  prepared;  she  and 
the  countess  must  away  to  Calais,  —  England  again  hath 
ceased  to  be  a  home  for  women !  What  to  do  with  this 
poor  rebel!  "  muttered  the  earl,  when  alone, — "  release 
him  I  cannot,  slay  him  I  will  not.  Hum,  —  there  is 
space  enough  in  these  walls  to  enclose  a  captive." 


136         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Fear  and  the  Flight. 

King  Edward  feasted  high,  and  Sibyll  sat  in  her 
father's  chamber, — she  silent  with  thought  of  love, 
Adam  silent  in  the  toils  of  science.  The  Eureka  was 
wellnigh  finished,  — rising  from  its  ruins,  more  perfect, 
more  elaborate,  than  before.  Maiden  and  scholar,  each 
seeming  near  to  the  cherished  goal, — one  to  love's 
genial  altar,  the  other  to  fame's  lonely  shrine. 

Evening  advanced,  night  began, — night  deepened. 
King  Edward's  feast  was  over,  but  still  in  his  per- 
fumed chamber  the  wine  sparkled  in  the  golden  cup. 
It  was  announced  to  him  that  Sir  Marmaduke  Nevile, 
just  arrived  from  the  earl's  house,  craved  an  audience. 
The  king,  preoccupied  in  deep  revery,  impatiently  post- 
poned it  till  the  morrow. 

"To-morrow!"  said  the  gentleman  in  attendance. 
"  Sir  Marmaduke  bids  me  to  say,  fearful  that  the  late 
hour  would  forbid  his  audience,  that  Lord  Warwick 
himself  will  visit  your  Grace.  I  fear,  sire,  that  the 
disturbances  are  great  indeed,  for  the  squires  and  gen- 
tlemen in  Lady  Anne's  train  have  orders  to  accompany 
her  to  Calais  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow,  to-morrow!"  repeated  the  king, — 
"  well,  sir,  you  are  dismissed." 

The  Lady  Anne  (to  whom  Sibyll  had  previously 
communicated  the  king's  kindly  consideration  for 
Master  Warner)  had  just  seen  Marmaduke,  and  learned 
the  new  dangers  that  awaited  the  throne  and  the  realm. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         137 

The  Lancastrians  were  then  openly  in  arms  for  the 
prince  of  her  love,  and  against  her  mighty  father! 

The  Lady  Anne  sat  awhile,  sorrowful  and  musing, 
and  then,  before  yon  crucifix,  the  Lady  Anne  knelt  in 
prayer. 

Sir  Marmaduke  Nevile  descends  to  the  court  below, 
and  some  three  or  four  busy,  curious  gentlemen,  not  yet 
a-bed,  seize  him  by  the  arm,  and  pray  him  to  say  what 
storm  is  in  the  wind. 

The  night  deepened  still:  the  wine  is  drained  in 
King  Edward's  goblet;  King  Edward  has  left  his 
chamber,  —  and  Sibyll,  entreating  her  father,  but  in 
vain,  to  suspend  his  toil,  has  kissed  the  damps  from 
his  brow,  and  is  about  to  retire  to  her  neighboring 
room.  She  has  turned  to  the  threshold,  when,  hark! 
—  a  faint  —  a  distant  cry,  a  woman's  shriek,  the  noise 
of  a  clapping  door!  The  voice,  —  it  is  the  voice  of 
Anne!  Sibyll  passed  the  threshold,  —  she  is  in  the 
corridor;  the  winter  moon  shines  through  the  open 
arches,  —  the  air  is  white  and  cold  with  frost.  Sud- 
denly the  door  at  the  farther  end  is  thrown  wide  open : 
a  form  rushes  into  the  corridor,  —  it  passes  Sibyll, 
halts,  turns  round.  "Oh,  Sibyll!"  cried  the  Lady 
Anne,  in  a  voice  wild  with  horror,  "save  me,  —  aid, 
help!     Merciful  Heaven,   the  king!" 

Instinctively,  wonderingly,  tremblingly,  Sibyll  drew 
Anne  into  the  chamber  she  had  just  quitted,  and  as 
they  gained  its  shelter, — as  Anne  sank  upon  the  floor, 
the  gleam  of  cloth  of  gold  flashed  through  the  dim 
atmosphere,  and  Edward,  yet  in  the  royal  robe  in  which 
he  had  dazzled  all  the  eyes  at  his  kingly  feast,  stood 
within  the  chamber.  His  countenance  was  agitated 
with  passion,  and  its  clear  hues  flushed  red  with  wine. 
At  his  entrance,  Anne  sprang  from  the  floor,  and  rushed 


138         THE  LAST  OF  THE  B AEONS. 

to  Warner,  who,  in  dumb  bewilderment,  had  suspended 
his  task,  and  stood  before  the  Eureka,  from  which 
steamed  and  rushed  the  dark  rapid  smoke,  while  round 
and  round,  laboring  and  groaning,  rolled  its  fairy- 
wheels.1 

"  Sir,"  cried   Anne,   clinging  to  him    convulsively 
"you  are  a  father,  —  by  your  child's  soul,  protect  Lord 
Warwick's  daughter!  " 

Roused  from  his  abstraction  by  this  appeal,  the  poor 
scholar  wound  his  arm  round  the  form  thus  clinging  to 
him,  and  raising  his  head  with  dignity,  replied,  "  Thy 
name,  youth,  and  sex  protect  thee!" 

"Unhand  that  lady,  vile  sorcerer,"  exclaimed  the 
king,  —  "  Jam  her  protector.  Come  Anne,  sweet  Anne, 
fair  lady,  —  thou  mistakest,  come!"  he  whispered. 
"  Give  not  to  these  low  natures  matter  for  guesses  that 
do  but  shame  thee.  Let  thy  king  and  cousin  lead  thee 
back  to  thy  sweet  rest." 

He  sought,  though  gently,  to  loosen  the  arms  that 
wound  themselves  round  the  old  man;  but  Anne,  not 
heeding,  not  listening,  distracted  by  a  terror  that  seemed 
to  shake  her  whole  frame,  and  to  threaten  her  very 
reason,  continued  to  cry  out  loudly  upon  her  father's 
name,  —  her  great  father,  wakeful,  then,  for  the  baffled 
ravisher's  tottering  throne! 

Edward  had  still  sufficient  possession  of  his  reason  to 
he  alarmed  lest  some  loiterer  or  sentry  in  the  outer 
court  might  hear  the  cries  which  his  attempts  to  soothe 
but  the  more  provoked.      Grinding  his  teeth,  and  losing 

1  The  gentle  reader  will  doubtless  bear  in  mind  that  Master 
Warner's  complicated  model  had  but  little  resemblance  to  the 
models  of  the  steam-engine  in  our  own  day,  and  that  it  was  usu- 
ally connected  with  other  contrivances,  for  the  better  display  of 
the  principle  it  was  intended  to  illustrate. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  139 

patience,  he  said  to  Adam,  "  Thou  knowest  me,  friend, 
—  I  am  thy  king.  Since  the  Lady  Anne,  in  her  bewil- 
derment, prefers  thine  aid  to  mine,  help  to  bear  her 
back  to  her  apartment;  and  thou,  young  mistress,  lend 
thine  arm.  This  wizard's  den  is  no  fit  chamber  for  our 
high-born  guest." 

"  No,  no;  drive  me  not  hence,  Master  Warner.  That 
man  —  that  king :  give  me  not  up  to  his  —  his  —  " 

"  Beware!  "  exclaimed  the  king. 

It  was  not  till  now  that  Adam's  simple  mind  com- 
prehended the  true  cause  of  Anne's  alarm,  which  Sibyll 
still  conjectured  not,  but  stood  trembling  by  her  friend's 
side,  and  close  to  her  father. 

"Do  not  fear,  maiden,"  said  Adam  Warner,  laying 
his  hand  upon  the  loosened  locks  tbat  swept  over  his 
bosom;  "for  though  I  am  old  and  feeble,  God  and  his 
angels  are  in  every  spot  where  virtue  trembles  and 
resists.  My  lord  king,  thy  sceptre  extends  not  over 
a  human  soul !  " 

"  Dotard,  prate  not  to  me!  "  said  Edward,  laying  his 
hand  on  his  dagger. 

Sibyll  saw  the  movement,  and  instinctively  placed 
herself  between  her  father  and  the  king.  That  slight 
form,  those  pure,  steadfast  eyes,  those  features,  noble 
at  once  and  delicate,  recalled  to  Edward  the  awe  which 
had  seized  him  in  his  first  dark  design ;  and  again  that 
awe  came  over  him.      He  retreated. 

"  I  mean  harm  to  none,"  said  he,  almost  submissively ; 
"  and  if  I  am  so  unhappy  as  to  scare  with  my  presence 
the  Lady  Anne,  I  will  retire,  praying  you,  donzell,  to 
see  to  her  state,  and  lead  her  back  to  her  chamber  when 
it  so  pleases  herself.  Saying  this  much,  I  command 
you,  old  man,  and  you,  maiden,  to  stand  back  while  I 
but  address  one  sentence  to  the  Lady  Anne." 


140         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

With  these  words  he  gently  advanced  to  Anne,  and 
took  her  hand;  hut,  snatching  it  from  him,  the  poor 
lady  broke  from  Adam,  rushed  to  the  casement,  opened 
it,  and  seeing  some  figures  indistinct  and  distant  in  the 
court  below,  she  called  out  in  a  voice  of  such  sharp 
agony,  that  it  struck  remorse  and  even  terror  into 
Edward's  soul. 

"Alas!"  he  muttered,  "  she  will  not  listen  to  me, 
her  mind  is  distraught!  What  frenzy  has  been  mine! 
Pardon,   pardon,   Anne,  —  oh,  pardon!" 

Adam  Warner  laid  his  hand  on  the  king's  arm,  and 
he  drew  the  imperious  despot  away  as  easily  as  a  nurse 
leads  a  docile  child. 

"  King!  "  said  the  brave  old  man,  "  may  God  pardon 
thee;  for  if  the  last  evil  hath  been  wrought  upon  this 
noble  lady,  David  sinned  not  more  heavily  than  thou." 

"  She  is  pure,  inviolate,  —  I  swear  it!  "  said  the  king, 
humbly.      "  Anne,  only  say  that  I  am  forgiven." 

Hut  Anne  spoke  not:  her  eyes  were  fixed,  her  lips 
had  fallen;  she  was  insensible  as  a  corpse,  —  dumb  and 
frozen  with  her  ineffable  dread.  Suddenly  steps  were 
heard  upon  the  stairs;  the  door  opened,  and  Marmaduke 
Nevile  entered  abruptly. 

"Surely  I  heard  my  lady's  voice,  —  surely!  What 
marvel  this  1  —  the  king  !  Pardon,  my  liege  !  "  —  and 
he   bent  his  knee. 

The  sight  of  Marmaduke  dissolved  the  spell  of  awe 
and  repentant  humiliation,  which  had  chained  a  king's 
dauntless  heart.  His  wonted  guile  returned  to  him 
with  his  self-possession. 

"  Our  wise  craftsman's  strange  and  weird  invention  —  " 
and  Edward  pointed  to  the  Eureka  —  "has  scared  our 
fair  cousin's  senses,  as,  by  sweet  St.  George,  it  well 
might!     Go  back,  Sir  Marmaduke,  we  will  leave  Lady 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  141 

Anne  for  the  moment  to  the  care  of  Mistress  Sibyll. 
Donzell,  remember  my  command.  Come,  sir,  —  "  and 
he  drew  the  wondering  Marmaduke  from  the  chamber ; 
but  as  soon  as  he  had  seen  the  knight  descend  the  stairs 
and  regain  the  court,  he  returned  to  the  room,  and  in 
a  low  stern  voice,  said,  "  Look  you,  Master  Warner,  and 
you,  damsel,  if  ever  either  of  ye  breathe  one  word  of 
what  has  been  your  dangerous  fate  to  hear  and  witness, 
kings  have  but  one  way  to  punish  slanderers,  and  silence 
but  one  safeguard!  —  trifle  not  with  death  !  " 

He  then  closed  the  door,  and  resought  his  own  cham- 
ber. The  Eastern  spices,  which  were  burned  in  the 
sleeping-rooms  of  the  great,  still  made  the  air  heavy 
with  their  feverish  fragrance.  The  king  seated  him- 
self, and  strove  to  recollect  his  thoughts,  and  examine 
the  peril  he  had  provoked.  The  resistance  and  the 
terror  of  Anne  had  effectually  banished  from  his  heart 
the  guilty  passion  it  had  before  harbored;  for  emotions 
like  his,  and  in  such  a  nature,  are  quick  of  change. 
His  prevailing  feeling  was  one  of  sharp  repentance, 
and  reproachful  shame.  But,  as  he  roused  himself 
from  a  state  of  mind  which  light  characters  ever  seek 
to  escape,  the  image  of  the  dark-browed  earl  rose  before 
him,  and  fear  succeeded  to  mortification;  but  even  this, 
however  well-founded,  could  not  endure  long  in  a  dis- 
position so  essentially  scornful  of  all  danger.  Before 
morning  the  senses  of  Anne  must  return  to  her.  So 
gentle  a  bosom  could  be  surely  reasoned  out  of  resent- 
ment, or  daunted,  at  least,  from  betraying  to  her  stern 
father  a  secret  that,  if  told,  would  smear  the  sward  of 
England  with  the  gore  of  thousands.  What  woman 
"will  provoke  war  and  bloodshed?  And  for  an  evil  not 
wrought,  —  for  a  purpose  not  fulfilled?  The  king  was 
grateful  that  his  victim  had  escaped  him.      He  would 


142  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

see  Anne  before  the  earl  could,  and  appease  her  anger, 
—  obtain  her  silence!  For  Warner,  and  for  Sibyll, 
they  would  not  dare  to  reveal:  and,  if  they  did,  the 
lips  that  accuse  a  king  soon  belie  themselves,  while  a 
rack  can  torture  truth,  and  the  doomsman  be  the  only 
judge  between  the  subject  and  the  head  that  wears  a 
crown ! 

Thus  reasoning  with  himself,  his  soul  faced  the  soli- 
tude. Meanwhile  Marmaduke  regained  the  court-yard, 
where,  as  we  have  said,  he  had  been  detained  in  con- 
ferring with  some  of  the  gentlemen  in  the  king's  ser- 
vice, who,  hearing  that  he  brought  important  tidings 
from  the  earl,  had  abstained  from  rest  till  they  could 
learn  if  the  progress  of  the  new  rebellion  would  bring 
their  swords  into  immediate  service.  Marmaduke, 
pleased  to  be  of  importance,  had  willingly  satisfied 
their  curiosity,  as  far  as  he  was  able,  and  was  just 
about  to  retire  to  his  own  chamber,  when  the  cry  of 
Anne  had  made  him  enter  the  postern  door  which  led 
up  the  stairs  to  Adam's  apartment,  and  which  was  for- 
tunately not  locked;  and  now,  on  returning,  he  had 
again  a  new  curiosity  to  allay.  Having  briefly  said 
that  Master  Warner  had  taken  that  untoward  hour  to 
frighten  the  women  with  a  machine  that  vomited  smoke 
and  howled  piteously,  Marmaduke  dismissed  the  group 
to  their  beds,  and  was  about  to  seek  his  own,  when, 
looking  once  more  towards  the  casement,  he  saw  a  white 
hand  gleaming  in  the  frosty  moonlight,  and  beckoning 
to  him. 

The  knight  crossed  himself,  and  reluctantly  ascended 
the  stairs,  and  re-entered  the  wizard's  den. 

The  Lady  Anne  had  so  far  recovered  herself,  that  a 
kind  of  unnatural  calm  had  taken  possession  of  her 
mind,  and  changed    her  ordinary  sweet   and    tractable 


THE   LA.ST   OF   THE   BARONS.  143 

nature  into  one  stern,  obstinate  resolution,  —  to  escape, 
if  possible,  that  unholy  palace.  And  as  soon  as  Mar- 
maduke  re-entered,  Anne  met  him  at  the  threshold,  and 
laying  her  hand  convulsively  on  his  arm,  said, — 

"By  the  name  you  bear,  by  your  love  to  my  father, 
aid  me  to  quit  these  walls." 

In  great  astonishment,  Marmaduke  stared,  without 
reply. 

"  Do  you  deny  me,  sir?  "  said  Anne,  almost  sternly. 

"Lady  and  mistress  mine,"  answered  Marmaduke, 
*  I  am  your  servant  in  all  things.  Quit  these  walls,  — 
the  palace  !  —  How  ?  —  the  gates  are  closed.  Nay,  and 
what  would  my  lord  say,  if  at  night —  " 

"  If  at  night!"  repeated  Anne,  in  a  hollow  voice; 
and  then  pausing,  burst  into  a  terrible  laugh.  Recov- 
ering herself  abruptly,  she  moved  to  the  door,  —  "I 
will  go  forth  alone,  and  trust  in  God  and  our  Lady." 

Sibyll  sprang  forward  to  arrest  her  steps,  and  Marma- 
duke hastened  to  Adam,  and  whispered,  "Poor  lady,  is 
her  mind  unsettled?  Hast  thou,  in  truth,  distracted 
her  with  thy  spells  and  glamour  ?  " 

"Hush!"  answered  the  old  man;  and  he  whispered 
in  the  Nevile's  ear. 

Scarcely  had  the  knight  caught  the  words  than  his 
cheek  paled,  — his  eyes  flashed  fire.  "  The  great  earl's 
daughter!"  he  exclaimed, — "infamy,  horror:  she  is 
right !  "  He  broke  from  the  student,  approached  Anne, 
who  still  struggled  with  Sibyll,  and  kneeling  before 
her,  said,  in  a  voice  choked  with  passions  at  once  fierce 
and  tender,  — 

"  Lady,  you  are  right.  Unseemly  it  may  be  for  one 
of  your  quality  and  sex  to  quit  this  place  with  me,  and 
alone;  but  at  least  I  have  a  man's  heart,  — a  knight's 
honor.     Trust  to  me  your  safety,  noble  maiden,  and  I 


144         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

will  cut  your  way,  even  through  yon  foul  king's  heart, 
to  your  great  father's  side  !  " 

Anne  did  not  seem  quite  to  understand  his  words; 
but  she  smiled  on  him  as  he  knelt,  and  gave  him  her 
hand.  The  responsibility  he  had  assumed  quickened 
all  the  intellect  of  the  young  knight.  As  he  took  and 
kissed  the  hand  extended  to  him,  he  felt  the  ring  upon 
his  finger:  the  ring  intrusted  to  him  by  Alwyn,  —  the 
king's  signet-ring,  before  which  would  fly  open  every 
gate.  He  uttered  a  joyous  exclamation,  loosened  his 
long  night-cloak,  and  praying  Anne  to  envelop  her 
form  in  its  folds,  drew  the  hood  over  her  head; — he 
was  about  to  lead  her  forth,  when  he  halted  suddenly. 

"Alack,  "said  he,  turning  to  Sibyll,"even  though 
we  may  escape  the  Tower,  no  boatman  now  can  be  found 
on  the  river.  The  way  through  the  streets  is  dark  and 
perilous,  and  beset  with  midnight  ruffians." 

"Verily,"  said  Warner,  "the  danger  is  past  now. 
Let  the  noble  demoiselle  rest  here  till  morning.  The 
king  dare  not  again — " 

"Dare  not!"  interrupted  Marmaduke.  "Alas!  you 
little  know  King  Edward." 

At  that  name  Anne  shuddered,  opened  the  door,  and 
hurried  down  the  stairs;  Sibyll  and  Marmaduke  fol- 
lowed her. 

"  Listen,  Sir  Marmaduke,"  said  Sibyll.  "  Close 
without  the  Tower  is  the  house  of  a  noble  lady,  the 
dame  of  Longueville,  where  Anne  may  rest  in  safety, 
while  you  seek  Lord  Warwick.  I  will  go  with  you, 
if  you  can  obtain  egress  for  us  both." 

"Brave  damsel!"  said  Marmaduke,  with  emotion; 
"  but  your  own  safety,  —  the  king's  anger ;  no,  —  besides 
a  third,  your  dress  not  concealed,  would  create  the  war- 
der's suspicion.     Describe  the  house. " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         145 

"  The  third  to  the  left,  by  the  river's  side,  with  an 
arched  porch,  and  the  fleur-de-lis  embossed  on  the 
walls." 

"  It  is  not  so  dark  but  we  shall  find  it.  Fare  you 
well,  gentle  mistress." 

While  they  yet  spoke,  they  had  both  reached  the  side 
of  Anne.  Sibyll  still  persisted  in  the  wish  to  accom- 
pany her  friend;  but  Marmaduke's  representation  of 
the  peril  to  life  itself,  that  might  befall  her  father,  if 
Edward  learned  she  had  abetted  Anne's  escape,  finally 
prevailed.  The  knight  and  his  charge  gained  the  outer 
gate. 

"  Haste,  haste,  Master  Warder!  "  he  cried,  beating  at 
the  door  with  his  dagger  till  it  opened  jealously, — 
"  messages  of  importance  to  the  Lord  Warwick.  We 
have  the  king's  signet.  —  Open  !  " 

The  sleepy  warder  glanced  at  the  ring,  —  the  gates 
were  opened:  they  were  without  the  fortress, — they 
hurried  on. 

"Cheer  up,  noble  lady;  you  are  safe,  —  you  shall  be 
avenged  !  "  said  Marmaduke,  as  he  felt  the  steps  of  his 
companion  falter. 

But  the  reaction  had  come.  The  effort  Anne  had 
hitherto  made  was  for  escape,  —  for  liberty;  the  strength 
ceased,  the  object  gained:  her  head  drooped, — she 
muttered  a  few  incoherent  words,  and  then  sense  and 
life  left  her.  Marmaduke  paused  in  great  perplexity 
and  alarm.  But  lo,  a  light  in  a  house  before  him!  — 
that  house  the  third  to  the  river, — the  only  one  with 
the  arched  porch  described  by  Sibyll.  He  lifted  the 
light  and  holy  burden  in  his  strong  arms,  —  he  gained 
the  door:  to  his  astonishment  it  was  open,  —  a  light 
burned  on  the  stairs;  he  heard,  in  the  upper  room,  the 
sound   of  whispered   voices,  and    quick,    soft    footsteps 

VOL.  II. 10 


146         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

hurrying  to  and  fro.  Still  bearing  the  insensible  form 
of  his  companion,  he  ascended  the  staircase,  and  entered 
at  once  upon  a  chamber,  in  which,  by  a  dim  lamp,  he 
saw  some  two  or  three  persons  assembled  round  a  bed 
in  the  recess.  A  grave  man  advanced  to  him,  as  he 
paused  at  the  threshold, — 

"  Whom  seek  you  1  " 

"The  Lady  Longueville." 

"  Hush !  " 

"  Who  needs  me  ? "  said  a  faint  voice  from  the  cur- 
tained recess. 

"My  name  is  Nevile,"  answered  Marmaduke,  with 
straightforward  brevity.  "  Mistress  Sibyll  Warner  told 
me  of  this  house,  Avhere  I  come  for  an  hour's  shelter 
to  my  companion,  the  Lady  Anne,  daughter  of  the  Earl 
of  Warwick." 

Marmaduke  resigned  his  charge  to  an  old  woman, 
who  Avas  the  nurse  in  that  sick-chamber,  and  who  lifted 
the  hood,  and  chafed  the  pale,  cold  hands  of  the  young 
maiden;  the  knight  then  strode  to  the  recess.  The  lady 
of  Longueville  was  on  the  bed  of  death,  —  an  illness  of 
two  days  had  brought  her  to  the  brink  of  the  grave; 
but  there  was  in  her  eye  and  countenance  a  restless  and 
preternatural  animation,  and  her  voice  was  clear  and 
shrill,  as  she  said, — 

"  Why  does  the  daughter  of  Warwick,  the  Yorkist, 
seek  refuge  in  the  house  of  the  fallen  and  childless 
Lancastrian  ?  " 

"  Swear,  by  thy  hopes  in  Christ,  that  thou  wilt  tend 
and  guard  her  while  I  seek  the  earl,  and  I  reply." 

"  Stranger,  my  name  is  Longueville :  my  birth  noble, 
—  those  pledges  of  hospitality  and  trust  are  stronger 
than  hollow  oaths.     Say  on !  " 

"Because,  then,"  whispered  the  knight,  after  waving 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         147 

the  bystanders  from  the  spot  —  "because  the  earl's 
daughter  flies  dishonor  in  a  king's  palace,  and  her 
insulter  is  the  king  !  " 

Before  the  dying  woman  could  reply,  Anne,  recovered 
by  the  cares  of  the  experienced  nurse,  suddenly  sprang 
to  the  recess,  and  kneeling  by  the  bedside,  exclaimed, 
wildly,  — 

"  Save  me  !  —  hide  me  !  —  save  me  !  " 

"Go  and  seek  the  earl,  whose  right  hand  destroyed 
my  house  and  his  lawful  sovereign's  throne,  —  go!  I 
will  live  till  he  arrives ! "  said  the  childless  widow,  and 
a  wild  gleam  of  triumph  shot  over  her  haggard  features. 


148  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

The  Group  round  the  Deathbed  of  the  Lancastrian  Widow. 

The  dawning  sun  gleamed  through  gray  clouds  upon 
a  small  troop  of  men,  armed  in  haste,  who  were  grouped 
round  a  covered  litter  by  the  outer  door  of  the  Lady 
Longueville's  house;  while  in  the  death-chamber,  the 
Earl  of  Warwick,  with  a  face  as  pale  as  the  dying 
woman's,  stood  beside  the  bed,  —  Anne  calmly  leaning 
on  his  breast,  her  eyes  closed,  and  tears  yet  moist  on 
their  long  fringes. 

"  Ay  —  ay  —  ay!  "  said  the  Lancastrian  noblewoman, 
"ye  men  of  wrath  and  turbulence,  should  reap  what  ye 
have  sown !  This  is  the  king  for  whom  ye  dethroned 
the  sainted  Henry !  this  the  man  for  whom  ye  poured 
forth  the  blood  of  England's  best !  Ha  !  —  ha  !  —  Look 
down  from  heaven,  my  husband,  my  martyr-sons!  The 
daughter  of  your  mightiest  foe  flies  to  this  lonely  hearth, 

—  flies  to  the  death-bed  of  the  powerless  woman  for 
refuge  from  the  foul  usurper  whom  that  foe  placed  upon 
the  throne!" 

"  Spare  me,"  muttered  Warwick  in  a  low  voice,  and 
between  his  grinded  teeth.  The  room  had  been  cleared, 
and  Doctor  Godard  (the  grave  man  who  had  first  accosted 
Marmaduke,  and  who  was  the  priest  summoned  to  the 
dying)   alone  —  save  the  scarce   conscious  Anne  herself 

—  witnessed  the  ghastly  and  awful  conference. 

"  Hush,  daughter,"  said  the  man  of  peace,  lifting  the 
solemn  crucifix,  —  "calm  thyself  to  holier  thoughts." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         149 

The  lady  impatiently  turned  from  the  priest,  and 
grasping  the  strong  right  arm  of  Warwick  with  her 
shrivelled  and  trembling  fingers,  resumed,  in  a  voice 
that  struggled  to  repress  the  gasps  which  broke  its 
breath, — 

"But  thou  —  oh,  thou,  Avilt  bear  this  indignity! 
thou,  the  chief  of  England's  barons,  wilt  see  no  dis- 
honor in  the  rank  love  of  the  vilest  of  England's  kings! 
Oh,  yes,  ye  Yorkists  have  the  hearts  of  varlets, — not 
of  men  and  fathers  !  " 

"  By  the  symbol  from  which  thou  turnest,  woman!" 
exclaimed  the  earl,  giving  vent  to  the  fury  which  the 
presence  of  death  had  before  suppressed, — "  by  Him, 
to  whom,  morning  and  night,  I  have  knelt  in  grateful 
blessing  for  the  virtuous  life  of  this  beloved  child,  I 
will  have  such  revenge  on  the  recreant  whom  I  kinged, 
as  shall  live  in  the  Bolls  of  England  till  the  trump  of 
the  Judgment  Angel !  " 

"Father,"  said  Anne,  startled  by  her  father's  vehe- 
mence, from  her  half-swoon  sleep, — "father,  think  no 
more  of  the  past:  take  me  to  my  mother!  I  want  the 
clasp  of  my  mother's  arms!  " 

"  Leave  us  —  leave  the  dying,  Sir  Earl  and  son,"  said 
Godard.  "I,  too,  am  Lancastrian,  —  I  too  would  lay 
down  my  life  for  the  holy  Henry ;  but  I  shudder,  in 
the  hour  of  death,  to  hear  yon  pale  lips,  that  should 
pray  for  pardon,  preach  to  thee  of  revenge." 

"  Revenge!  "  shrieked  out  the  Dame  of  Longueville, 
as,  sinking  fast  and  fast,  she  caught  the  word,  — 
"  revenge !  Thou  hast  sworn  revenge  on  Edward  of 
York,  Lord  Warwick,  sworn  it,  in  the  chamber  of 
death,  —  in  the  ear  of  one  who  will  carry  that  word 
to  the  hero-dead  of  a  hundred  battle-fields!  Ha!  —  the 
sun  has  risen !      Priest  —  Godard  —  thine   arms  —  sup- 


150         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

port  —  raise  —  bear  me  to  the  casement !  Quick  —  quick ! 
I  would  see  my  king  once  more!  Quick  —  quick!  and 
then  —  then  —  I  will  hear  thee  pray !  " 

The  priest,  half  chiding,  yet  half  in  pity,  bore  the 
dying  woman  to  the  casement.  She  motioned  to  him  to 
open  it:  he  obeyed.  The  sun,  just  above  the  welkin, 
shone  over  the  lordly  Thames,  gilded  the  gloomy  fortress 
of  the  Tower,  and  glittered  upon  the  window  of  Henry's 
prison. 

"  There  —  there !  It  is  he ,  —  it  is  my  king !  Hither 
—  lord,  rebel  earl, — hither.  Behold  your  sovereign. 
Repent,  revenge !  " 

With  her  livid  and  outstretched  hand,  the  Lancas- 
trian pointed  to  the  huge  Wakefield  Tower.  The  earl's 
dark  eye  beheld  in  the  dim  distance  a  pale  and  reverend 
countenance,  recognized  even  from  afar.  The  dying 
woman  fixed  her  glazing  eyes  upon  the  wronged  and 
mighty  baron,  and  suddenly  her  arm  fell  to  her  side, 
the  face  became  set  as  into  stone,  the  last  breath  of  life 
gurgled  within,  and  fled,  —  and  still  those  glazing  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  earl's  hueless  face:  and  still  in  his 
ear,  and  echoed  by  a  thousand  passions  in  his  heart, 
thrilled  the  word  which  had  superseded  prayer,  and  in 
which  the  sinner's  soul  had  flown,  —  revenge! 


BOOK   IX. 


THE    WANDERERS    AND    THE    EXILES. 


CHAPTER     I. 

How  the  great  Baron  becomes  as  great  a  Rebel. 

Hilyard  was  yet  asleep  in  the  chamber  assigned  to 
him  as  his  prison,  when  a  rough  grasp  shook  off  his 
slumbers,  and  he  saw  the  earl  before  him,  with  a  counte- 
nance so  changed  from  its  usual  open  majesty, —  so  dark 
and  sombre,  that  he  said,  involuntarily,  "  You  send  me 
to  the  doomsman,  —  I  am  ready  !  " 

"  Hist,  man !     Thou  hatest  Edward  of  York  1  " 

"  An  it  were  my  last  word,  —  yes  !  " 

"  Give  me  thy  hand,  —  we  are  friends !  Stare  not  at 
me  with  those  eyes  of  wonder,  —  ask  not  the  why  nor 
wherefore !  This  last  night  gave  Edward  a  rebel  more 
in  Richard  Nevile.  A  steed  waits  thee  at  my  gates,  — 
ride  fast  to  young  Sir  Robert  Welles  with  this  letter. 
Bid  him  not  be  dismayed ;  bid  him  hold  out,  —  for  ere 
many  days  are  past,  Lord  Warwick,  and  it  may  be,  also, 
the  Duke  of  Clarence,  will  join  their  force  with  his. 
Mark,  I  say  not  that  I  am  for  Henry  of  Lancaster,  —  I 
say  only  that  I  am  against  Edward  of  York.  Farewell, 
and  when  we  meet  again,  blessed  be  the  arm  that  first 
cuts  its  way  to  a  tyrant's  heart!  " 


152         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS. 

Without  another  word,  Warwick  left  the  chamber. 
Hilyard,  at  first,  could  not  believe  his  senses;  but  as 
he  dressed  himself  in  haste,  he  pondered  over  all  those 
causes  of  dissension  which  had  long  notoriously  sub- 
sisted between  Edward  and  the  earl,  and  rejoiced  that 
the  prophecy  he  had  long  so  shrewdly  hazarded  was  at 
last  fulfilled.  Descending  the  stairs,  he  gained  the 
gate,  where  Marmaduke  awaited  him,  while  a  groom 
held  a  stout  haquenee  (as  the  common  riding-horse  was 
then  called),  whose  points  and  breeding  promised  speed 
and  endurance. 

"  Mount,  Master  Kobin, "  said  Marmaduke ;  "  I  little 
thought  we  should  ever  ride  as  friends  together !  Mount, 
—  our  way  for  some  miles  out  of  London  is  the  same. 
You  go  into  Lincolnshire, —  I  into  the  shire  of  Hertford." 

"  And  for  the  same  purpose  ?  "  asked  Hilyard,  as  he 
sprang  upon  his  horse,  and  the  two  men  rode  briskly  on. 

"  Yes !  " 

"  Lord  Warwick  is  changed  at  last. " 

"  At  last !  " 

"  For  long  ?  " 

"Till  death!" 

"  Good, —  I  ask  no  more  !  " 

A  sound  of  hoofs  behind  made  the  franklin  turn  his 
head,  and  he  saw  a  goodly  troop,  armed  to  the  teeth, 
emerge  from  the  earl's  house  and  follow  the  lead  of 
Marmaduke. 

Meanwhile  Warwick  was  closeted  with  Montagu. 

Worldly  as  the  latter  was,  and  personally  attached 
to  Edward,  he  was  still  keenly  alive  to  all  that  touched 
the  honor  of  his  house ;  and  his  indignation  at  the 
deadly  insult  offered  to  his  niece  was  even  more  loudly 
expressed  than  that  of  the  fiery  earl. 

"  To   deem, "    he   exclaimed,  —  "  to    deem    Elizabeth 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         153 

Woodville  worthy  of  his  throne,  and  to  see  in  Anne 
Nevile  one  only  worthy  to  be  his  leman  !  " 

"  Ay !  "  said  the  earl,  with  a  calmness  perfectly  ter- 
rible, from  its  unnatural  contrast  to  his  ordinary  heat, 
when  bnt  slightly  chafed, —  "ay!  thou  sayest  it!  But 
be  tranquil,  cold, —  cold  as  iron,  and  as  hard!  We  must 
scheme  now,  not  storm  and  threaten, —  I  never  schemed 
before!  You  are  right, —  honesty  is  a  fool's  policy! 
Would  I  had  known  this  but  an  hour  before  the  news 
reached  me  !  I  have  already  dismissed  our  friends  to 
their  different  districts,  to  support  King  Edward's  cause : 
he  is  still  king,  —  a  little  while  longer  king!  Last  night, 
I  dismissed  them, —  last  night,  at  the  very  hour  when  — 
0  God,  give  me  patience !  "  He  paused,  and  added,  in 
a  low  voice,  "  Yet  —  yet  —  how  long  the  moments  are, — 
how  long !  Ere  the  sun  sets,  Edward,  I  trust,  will  be 
in  my  power  !  " 

"  How  1  " 

"  He  goes,  to-day,  to  the  More,  —  he  will  not  go  the 
less  for  what  hath  chanced ;  he  will  trust  to  the  arch- 
bishop to  make  his  peace  with  me, —  churchmen  are  not 
fathers!  Marmaduke  Nevile  hath  my  orders,  —  a  hun- 
dred armed  men,  who  would  march  against  the  fiend 
himself,  if  I  said  the  word,  will  surround  the  More,  and 
seize  the  guest !  " 

"  But  what  then  ?  Who,  if  Edward  —  I  dare  not  say 
the  word, —  tvho  is  to  succeed  him?  " 

"  Clarence  is  the  male  heir  !  " 

"  But  with  what  face  to  the  people  —  proclaim  —  " 

"  There  —  there  it  is  !  "  interrupted  Warwick.  "  I 
have  thought  of  that,  —  I  have  thought  of  all  things ; 
my  mind  seems  to  have  traversed  worlds  since  daybreak ! 
True  !  all  commotion  to  be  successful  must  have  a  cause 
that  men  can  understand.     Nevertheless,  you,  Montagu, 


154  THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS. 

■ — ■  you  have  a  smoother  tongue  than  I ;  go  to  our  friends, 
—  to  those  who  hate  Edward :  seek  them,  —  sound 
them!" 

"  And  name  to  them  Edward's  infamy !  " 
"  'Sdeath,  dost  thou  think  it  ?  Thou,  a  Monthermer 
and  Montagu;  proclaim  to  England  the  foul  insult  to 
the  hearth  of  an  English  gentleman  and  peer!  feed  every 
ribald  Bourdour  with  song  and  roundel  of  Anne's  virgin 
shame !  how  King  Edward  stole  to  her  room  at  the  dead 
of  night,  and  wooed,  and  pressed,  and  swore,  and  — 
God  of  heaven,  that  this  hand  were  on  his.  throat!  No, 
brother,  no!  there  are  some  wrongs  we  may  not  tell, — 
tumors  and  swellings  of  the  heart,  which  are  eased  not 
till  blood  can  flow  !  " 

During  this  conference  between  the  brothers,  Edward, 
in  his  palace,  was  seized  with  consternation  and  dismay 
on  hearing  that  the  Lady  Anne  could  not  be  found  in 
her  chamber.  He  sent  forthwith  to  summon  Adam 
Warner  to  his  presence,  and  learned  from  the  simple 
sage,  who  concealed  nothing,  the  mode  in  which  Anne 
had  fled  from  the  Tower.  The  king  abruptly  dismissed 
Adam,  after  a  few  hearty  curses  and  vague  threats ;  and 
awaking  to  the  necessity  of  inventing  some  plausible 
story,  to  account  to  the  wonder  of  the  court  for  the 
abrupt  disappearance  of  his  guest,  he  saw  that  the  person 
who  could  best  originate  and  circulate  such  a  tale  was 
the  queen ;  and  he  sought  her  at  once,  with  the  resolu- 
tion to  choose  his  confidant  in  the  connection  most  rarely 
honored  by  marital  trust,  in  similar  offences.  He,  how- 
ever, so  softened  his  narrative  as  to  leave  it  but  a  venial 
error.  He  had  been  indulging  over-freely  in  the  wine- 
cup,  —  he  had  walked  into  the  corridor,  for  the  refresh- 
ing coolness  of  the  air;  he  had  seen  the  figure  of  a 
female  whom  he  did  not  recognize;  and  a  few  gallant 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         155 

words,  he  scarce  remembered  what,  had  been  miscon- 
strued. On  perceiving  whom  he  had  thus  addressed,  he 
had  sought  to  soothe  the  anger  or  alarm  of  the  Lady 
Anne ;  but  still  mistaking  his  intention,  she  had  hurried 
into  Warner's  chamber:  he  had  followed  her  thither, — 
and  now  she  had  fled  the  palace.  Such  was  his  story, 
told  lightly  and  laughingly,  but  ending  with  a  grave 
enumeration  of  the  dangers  his  imprudence  had  incurred. 
Whatever  Elizabeth  felt,  or  however  she  might  inter- 
pret the  confession,  she  acted  with  her  customary 
discretion,  —  affected,  after  a  few  tender  reproaches,  to 
place  implicit  credit  in  her  lord's  account,  and  volun- 
teered to  prevent  all  scandal  by  the  probable  story,  that 
the  earl,  being  prevented  from  coming  in  person  for  his 
daughter,  as  he  had  purposed,  by  fresh  news  of  the 
rebellion  which  might  call  him  from  London  with 
the  early  day,  had  commissioned  his  kinsman,  Marma- 
duke,  to  escort  her  home.  The  quick  perception  of  her 
sex  told  her  that,  whatever  license  might  have  terrified 
Anne  into  so  abrupt  a  flight,  the  haughty  earl  would 
shrink  no  less  than  Edward  himself  from  making  public 
an  insult  which  slander  could  well  distort  into  the  dis- 
honor of  his  daughter ;  and  that  whatever  pretext  might 
be  invented,  Warwick  would  not  deign  to  contradict  it. 
And  as,  despite  Elizabeth's  hatred  to  the  earl,  and  desire 
of  permanent  breach  between  Edward  and  his  minister, 
she  could  not,  as  queen,  wife,  and  woman,  but  be 
anxious  that  some  cause  more  honorable  in  Edward, 
and  less  odious  to  the  people,  should  be  assigned  for 
quarrel,  —  she  earnestly  recommended  the  king  to  repair 
at  once  to  the  More,  as  had  been  before  arranged,  and  to 
spare  no  pains,  disdain  no  expressions  of  penitence  and 
humiliation,  to  secure  the  mediation  of  the  archbishop. 
His  mind  somewhat  relieved  by  this  interview  and  coun- 


156        THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

sel,  the  king  kissed  Elizabeth  with  affectionate  gratitude, 
and  returned  to  his  chamber  to  prepare  for  his  departure 
to  the  archbishop's  palace.  But  then  remembering  that 
Adam  and  Sibyll  possessed  his  secret,  he  resolved  at  once 
to  banish  them  from  the  Tower.  For  a  moment  he 
thought  of  the  dungeons  of  his  fortress,  —  of  the  rope 
of  his  doomsman ;  but  his  conscience  at  that  hour  was 
sore  and  vexed.  His  fierceness  humbled  by  the  sense  of 
shame,  he  shrunk  from  a  new  crime ;  and,  moreover,  his 
strong  common  sense  assured  him  that  the  testimony  of  a 
shunned  and  abhorred  wizard  ceased  to  be  of  weight  the 
moment  it  was  deprived  of  the  influence  it  took  from  the 
protection  of  a  king.  He  gave  orders  for  a  boat  to  be  in 
readiness  by  the  gate  of  St.  Thomas,  again  summoned 
Adam  into  his  presence,  and  said,  briefly,  "  Master 
Warner,  the  London  mechanics  cry  so  loudly  against 
thine  invention,  for  lessening  labor  and  starving  the 
poor,  the  sailors  on  the  wharfs  are  so  mutinous,  at  the 
thought  of  vessels  without  rowers,  that,  as  a  good  king 
is  bound,  I  yield  to  the  voice  of  my  people.  Go  home, 
then,  at  once;  the  queen  dispenses  with  thy  fair 
daughter's  service, — the  damsel  accompanies  thee.  A 
boat  awaits  ye  at  the  stairs ;  a  guard  shall  attend  ye  to 
your  house.  Think  what  has  passed  within  these  walls 
has  been  a  dream ;  a  dream  that,  if  told,  is  deathf  ul,  — 
if  concealed  and  forgotten,  hath  no  portent !  " 

Without  waiting  a  reply,  the  king  called  from  the 
anteroom  one  of  his  gentlemen,  and  gave  him  special 
directions  as  to  the  departure  and  conduct  of  the  worthy 
scholar  and  his  gentle  daughter.  Edward  next  sum- 
moned before  him  the  warder  of  the  gate,  learned  that 
he  alone  was  privy  to  the  mode  of  his  guest's  flight,  and 
deeming  it  best  to  leave  at  large  no  commentator  on  the 
tale  he  had  invented,  sentenced  the  astonished  warder  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  B AEONS.         157 

three  months'  solitary  imprisonment,  —  for  appearing 
before  him  with  soiled  hosen !  An  hour  afterwards,  the 
king,  with  a  small  though  gorgeous  retinue,  was  on  his 
way  to  the  More. 

The  archbishop  had,  according  to  his  engagement, 
assembled  in  his  palace  the  more  powerful  of  the  discon- 
tented seigneurs ;  and  his  eloquence  had  so  worked  upon 
them,  that  Edward  beheld,  on  entering  the  hall,  only 
countenances  of  cheerful  loyalty  and  respectful  welcome. 
After  the  first  greetings,  the  prelate,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  day,  conducted  Edward  into  a  chamber, 
that  he  might  refresh  himself  with  a  brief  rest  and  the 
bath,  previous  to  the  banquet. 

Edward  seized  the  occasion  and  told  his  tale ;  but, 
however  softened,  enough  was  left  to  create  the  liveliest 
dismay  in  his  listener.  The  lofty  scaffolding  of  hope, 
upon  which  the  ambitious  prelate  was  to  mount  to  the 
papal  throne  seemed  to  crumble  into  the  dust.  The  king 
and  the  earl  were  equally  necessary  to  the  schemes  of 
George  Nevile.  He  chid  the  royal  layman  with  more 
than  priestly  unction  for  his  offence ;  but  Edward  so 
humbly  confessed  his  fault,  that  the  prelate  at  length 
relaxed  his  brow,  and  promised  to  convey  his  penitent 
assurances  to  the   earl. 

"  Not  an  hour  should  be  lost, "  he  said;  "  the  only  one 
who  can  soothe  his  wrath  is  your  Highness's  mother,  our 
noble  kinswoman.  Permit  me  to  despatch  to  her  Grace 
a  letter,  praying  her  to  seek  the  earl,  while  I  write  by  the 
same  courier  to  himself. " 

"  Be  it  all  as  you  will, "  said  Edward,  doffing  his  sur- 
coat,  and  dipping  his  hands  in  a  perfumed  ewer,  "  I  shall 
not  know  rest  till  I  have  knelt  to  the  Lady  Anne,  and 
won  her  pardon." 

The  prelate  retired,  and  scarcely  had  he  left  the  room 


158         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

when  Sir  John  Batcliffe,1  one  of  the  king's  retinue, 
and  in  waiting  on  his  person,  entered  the  chamber, 
pale  and  trembling. 

"My  liege,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "I  fear  some 
deadly  treason  awaits  you.  I  have  seen,  amongst  the 
trees  below  this  tower,  the  gleam  of  steel ;  I  have  crept 
through  the  foliage,  and  counted  no  less  than  a  hun- 
dred armed  men,  —  their  leader  is  Sir  Marmaduke  Nevile, 
Earl  Warwick's  kinsman !  " 

"  Ha  !  "  muttered  the  king,  and  his  bold  face  fell,  — 
"  comes  the  earl's  revenge  so  soon  ?  " 

"And,"  continued  Batcliffe,  "I  overheard  Sir  Mar- 
maduke say,  'The  door  of  the  Garden  Tower  is  un- 
guarded, —  wait  the  signal !  '  Fly,  my  liege !  Hark  ! 
even  now,  I  hear  the  rattling  of  arms!  " 

The  king  stole  to  the  casement,  —  the  day  was  clos- 
ing ;  the  foliage  grew  thick  and  dark  around  the  wall ; 
he  saw  an  armed  man  emerge  from  the  shade,  —  a  second, 
and  a  third. 

"  You  are  right,  Batcliffe !     Flight,  —  but  how  ?  " 

"This  way,  my  liege.  By  the  passage  I  entered,  a 
stair  winds  to  a  door  on  the  inner  court;  there,  I  have 
already  a  steed  in  waiting.  Deign,  for  precaution,  to  use 
my  hat  and  manteline." 

The  king  hastily  adopted  the  suggestion,  followed  the 
noiseless  steps  of  Batcliffe,  gained  the  door,  sprang  upon 
his  steed,  and  dashing  right  through  a  crowd  assembled 

1  Afterwards  Lord  Fifczwalter.  See  Lingard,  note,  vol.  iii.  p. 
507,  quarto  edition,  for  the  proper  date  to  be  assigned  to  this  royal 
visit  to  the  More ;  —  a  date  we  have  here  adopted,  —  not  as  Sharon 
Turner  and  others  place,  —  namely  (upon  the  authority  of  Hearne's 
"  Fragm.,"  302,  which  subsequent  events  disprove)  after  the  open 
rebellion  of  Warwick,  but  just  before  it,  —  that  is,  not  after  Easter, 
but  before  Lent. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         159 

by  the  gate,  galloped  alone  and  fast,  tintracked  by  hu- 
man enemy,  but  goaded  by  the  foe  that  mounts  the 
rider's  steed,  —  over  field,  over  fell,  over  dyke,  through 
hedge,  and  in  the  dead  of  night  reined  in  at  last  before 
the  royal  towers  of  Windsor. 


160         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Many  Things  Briefly  Told. 

The  events  that  followed  the  king's  escape  were  rapid 
and  startling.  The  barons  assembled  at  the  More,  en- 
raged at  Edward's  seeming  distrust  of  them,  separated 
in  loud  anger.  The  archbishop  learned  the  cause  from 
one  of  his  servitors,  who  detected  Marmaduke's  ambush, 
but  he  was  too  wary  to  make  known  a  circumstance 
suspicious  to  himself.  He  flew  to  London,  and  engaged 
the  mediation  of  the  Duchess  of  York  to  assist  his 
own.1 

The  earl  received  their  joint  overtures  with  stern  and 
ominous  coldness,  and  abruptly  repaired  to  Warwick, 
taking  with  him  the  Lady  Anne.  There  he  was  joined, 
the  same  day,  by  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Clarence. 

The  Lincolnshire  rebellion  gained  head:  Edward 
made  a  dexterous  feint  in  calling,  by  public  commission, 
\ipon  Clarence  and  Warwick  to  aid  in  dispersing  it ;  if 
they  refused,  the  odium  of  first  aggression  would  seem- 
ingly rest  with  them.  Clarence,  more  induced  by  per- 
sonal ambition  than  sympathy  with  Warwick's  wrong, 
incensed  by  his  brother's  recent  slights,  looking  to 
Edward's  resignation  and  his  own  consequent  accession 
to  the  throne,  and  inflamed  by  the  ambition  and  pride 
of  a  wife  whom  he  at  once  feared  and  idolized,  went 
hand  in  heart  with  the  earl;  but  not  one  lord  and  cap- 
tain whom  Montagu  had  sounded  lent  favor  to  the 
deposition   of  one  brother   for    the  advancement  of   the 

1  Lingard.     See  for  the  dates,  Fab  van,  657. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         161 

next.  Clarence,  though  popular,  was  too  young  to  be 
respected:  many  there  were  who  would  rather  have  sup- 
ported the  earl,  if  an  aspirant  to  the  throne ;  hut  that 
choice,  forbidden  by  the  earl  himself,  there  could  be  but 
two  parties  in  England, —  the  one  for  Edward  IV.,  the 
other  for  Henry  VI. 

Lord  Montagu  had  repaired  to  Warwick  Castle,  to 
communicate  in  person  this  result  of  his  diplomacy. 
The  earl,  whose  manner  was  completely  changed,  no 
longer  frank  and  hearty,  but  close  and  sinister,  listened 
in  gloomy  silence. 

"  And  now, "  said  Montagu,  with  the  generous  emo- 
tion of  a  man  whose  nobler  nature  was  stirred  deeply, 
"  if  you  resolve  on  war  with  Edward,  I  am  willing 
to  renounce  my  own  ambition,  the  hand  of  a  king's 
daughter  for  my  son, —  so  that  I  may  avenge  the  honor 
of  our  common  name.  I  confess  that  I  have  so  loved 
Edward  that  1  would  fain  pray  you  to  pause,  did  I  not 
distrust  myself,  lest  in  such  delay,  his  craft  should 
charm  me  back  to  the  old  affection.  Nathless,  to  your 
arm,  and  your  great  soul,  I  have  owed  all,  and  if  you 
are  resolved  to  strike  the  blow,  I  am  ready  to  share  the 
hazard. " 

The  earl  turned  away  his  face,  and  wrung  his  brother's 
hand. 

"  Our  father,  methinks,  hears  thee  from  the  grave !  " 
said  he,  solemnly,  and  there  was  a  long  pause.  At 
length  Warwick  resumed :  "  Return  to  London :  seem 
to  take  no  share  in  my  actions,  whatever  they  be ;  if 
I  fail,  why  drag  thee  into  my  ruin  1  —  and  yet,  trust 
me,  I  am  rash  and  fierce  no  more.  He  who  sets  his 
heart  on  a  great  object  suddenly  becomes  wise.  When 
a  throne  is  in  the  dust, —  when  from  St.  Paul's  Cross  a 
voice  goes  forth,    to  Carlisle  and  the  Land's  End,   pro- 

VOL.  II.  —  11 


162         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

claiming  that  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  is  past  and 
gone, —  then,  Montagu,  I  claim  thy  promise  of  aid  and 
fellowship:  not  before!  " 

Meanwhile,  the  king,  eager  to  dispel  thought  in 
action,  rushed  in  person  against  the  rebellious  forces. 
Stung  by  fear  into  cruelty,  he  beheaded,  against  all 
kingly  faith,  his  hostages,  Lord  Welles  and  Sir  Thomas 
Dymoke ;  summoned  Sir  Robert  Welles,  the  leader  of 
the  revolt,  to  surrender ;  received  for  answer,  "  that 
Sir  Robert  Welles  would  not  trust  the  perfidy  of  the 
man  who  had  murdered  his  father !  "  —  pushed  on  to 
Erpingham,  defeated  the  rebels  in  a  signal  battle,  and 
crowned  his  victory  by  a  series  of  ruthless  cruelties, — 
committed  to  the  fierce  and  learned  Earl  of  Worcester, 
"  Butcher  of  England. " 1     With  the  prompt  vigor  and 

1  Stowe.  "  Warkworth  Chronicle."  —  Cont.  Croyl.  Lord  Wor- 
cester ordered  Clapham  (a  squire  to  Lord  Warwick)  and  nineteen 
others,  gentlemen  and  yeomen,  to  be  empaled,  and  from  the  horror 
the  spectacle  inspired,  and  the  universal  odium  it  attached  to 
Worcester,  it  is  to  he  feared  that  the  unhappy  men  were  still  sen- 
sible to  the  agony  of  this  infliction,  though  they  appear  first  to 
have  been  drawn,  and  partially  hanged  ;  —  outrage  confined  only  to 
the  dead  bodies  of  rebels,  being  too  common  at  that  day  to  have 
excited  the  indignation  which  attended  the  sentence  Worcester 
passed  on  his  victims.  It  is  in  vain  that  some  writers  would  seek 
to  cleanse  the  memory  of  this  learned  nobleman  from  the  stain  of 
cruelty,  by  rhetorical  remarks  on  the  improbability  that  a  cultiva- 
tor of  letters  should  be  of  a  ruthless  disposition.  The  general  phi- 
losophy of  this  defence  is  erroneous.  In  ignorant  ages,  a  man  of 
superior  acquirements  is  not  necessarily  made  humane  by  the  cul- 
tivation of  his  intellect ;  on  the  contrary,  he  too  often  learns  to 
look  upon  the  uneducated  herd  as  things  of  another  clay.  Of  this 
truth  all  history  is  pregnant, — witness  the  accomplished  tyrants 
of  Greece,  the  profound  and  cruel  intellect  of  the  Italian  Borgias. 
Richard  III.  and  Henry  VIII.  were  both  highly  educated  for  their 
age.  But  in  the  case  of  Tiptoft,  Lord  Worcester,  the  evidence  of 
his  cruelty  is  no  less  incontestable  than  that   which   proves   his 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  163 

superb  generalship  which  Edward  ever  displayed  in 
war,  he  then  cut  his  gory  way  to  the  force  which 
Clarence  and  Warwick  (though  their  hostility  was  still 
undeclared)  had  levied,  with  the  intent  to  join  the 
defeated  rebels.  He  sent  his  herald,  Garter  King-at- 
arms,  to  summon  the  earl  and  the  duke  to  appear 
before  him  within  a  certain  day.  The  time  expired ; 
he  proclaimed  them  traitors,  and  offered  rewards  for 
their  apprehension!  1 

So  sudden  had  been  Warwick's  defection — so  rapid 
the  king's  movements  —  that  the  earl  had  not  time  to 
mature  his  resources,  assemble  his  vassals,  consolidate 
his  schemes.  His  very  preparations,  upon  the  night 
on  which  Edward  had  repaid  his  services  by  such 
hideous  ingratitude,  had  manned  the  country  with 
armies  against  himself.  Girt  but  with  a  scanty  force 
collected  in  haste  (and  which  consisted  merely  of  his 
retainers,  in  the  single  shire  of  Warwick),  the  march 
of  Edward  cut  him  off  from  the  counties  in  which  his 
name  was  held  most  dear,  —  in  which  his  trumpet  could 
raise  up  hosts.  He  was  disappointed  in  the  aid  he 
had  expected  from  his  powerful  but  self-interested 
brother-in-law,  Lord  Stanley.  Revenge  had  become 
more  dear  to  him  than  life :  life  must  not  be  hazarded, 
lest  revenge  be  lost.  On  still  marched  the  king;  and 
the  day  that  his  troops  entered  Exeter,  Warwick,  the 
females  of  his  family,    with    Clarence,   and  a  small  but 

learning,  —  the  Croyland  historian  alone  is  unimpeachable.  Wor- 
cester's popular  name  of  "  The  Butcher  "  is  sufficient  testimony  in 
itself.  The  people  are  often  mistaken,  to  be  sure,  but  can  scarcely 
be  so  upon  the  one  point,  —  whether  a  man  who  has  sat  in  judg- 
ment on  themselves  be  merciful  or  cruel. 

1  One  thousand  pounds  in  money,  or  one  hundred  pounds  a  yeai 
in  land ;  an  immense  reward  for  that  day. 


164         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

armed  retinue,  took  ship  from  Dartmouth,  sailed  for 
Calais  (before  which  town,  while  at  anchor,  Isabel 
was  confined  of  her  first-born),  —  to  the  earl's  rage  and 
dismay  his  deputy  Vauclerc  fired  upon  his  ships. 
Warwick  then  steered  on  towards  Normandy,  cap- 
tured some  Flemish  vessels  by  the  way,  in  token  of 
defiance  to  the  earl's  old  Burgundian  foe, —  and  landed 
at  Harfleur,  where  he  and  his  companions  were  received 
with  royal  honors  by  the  Admiral  of  France,  and  finally 
took  their  way  to  the  court  of  Louis  XL,  at  Amboise. 

"  The  clanger  is  past  forever !  "  said  King  Edward, 
as  the  wine  sparkled  in  his  goblet.  "  Rebellion  hath 
lost  its  head,  —  and  now,  indeed,  and  for  the  first  time, 
a  monarch  I  reign  alone  !  " 1 

1  Before  leaving  England,  Warwick  and  Clarence  are  generally 
said  to  have  fallen  in  with  Anthony  Woodville  and  Lord  Audley, 
and  ordered  them  to  execution ;  from  which  they  were  saved  by 
a  Dorsetshire  gentleman.  Carte,  who,  though  his  history  is  not 
without  great  mistakes,  is  well  worth  reading  by  those  whom  the 
character  of  Lord  Warwick  may  interest,  says,  that  the  earl  had 
"  too  much  magnanimity  to  put  them  to  death  immediately,  ac- 
cording to  the  common  practice  of  the  times,  and  only  imprisoned 
them  in  the  castle  of  Wardour,  from  whence  they  were  soon  res- 
cued by  John  Thornhill,  a  gentleman  of  Dorsetshire."  The  whole 
of  this  story  is,  however,  absolutely  contradicted  by  the  "  Wark- 
worth  Chronicle "  (p.  9,  edited  by  Mr  Halliwell),  according  to 
which  authority  Anthony  Woodville  was  at  that  time  commanding 
a  fleet  upon  the  Channel,  which  waylaid  Warwick  on  his  vovage ; 
but  the  success  therein  attributed  to  the  gallant  Anthony,  in  dis- 
persing or  seizing  all  the  earl's  ships,  save  the  one  that  "bore  the 
earl  himself  and  his  family,  is  proved  to  be  purely  fabulous,  by 
the  earl's  well-attested  capture  of  the  Flemish  vessels,  as  he  passed 
from  Calais  to  the  coasts  of  Normandy,  an  exploit  he  could  never 
have  performed  with  a  single  vessel  of  his  own.  It  is  very  prob- 
able that  the  story  of  Anthony  Woodville's  capture  and  peril  at 
this  time  originates  in  a  misadventure    many   years   before,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         165 

recorded  in  the  Pastou  letters,  as  well  as  in  the  Chronicles.  In  the 
year  1459,  Anthony  Woodville  and  his  father,  Lord  Rivers  (then 
zealous  Lancastrians),  really  did  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Earl 
of  March  (Edward  IV.),  Warwick,  and  Salisbury,  and  got  off  with 
a  sound  "  rating "  upon  the  rude  language  which  such  "  knaves' 
sons  "  and  "  little  squires  "  had  held  to  those  "  who  were  of  kings 
blood." 


166         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  Plot  of  the  Hostelry  —  The  Maid  and  the  Scholar  in  their 

Home. 

The  country  was  still  disturbed,  and  the  adherents, 
whether  of  Henry  or  the  earl,  still  rose  in  many  an 
outbreak,  though  prevented  from  swelling  into  one  com- 
mon army  by  the  extraordinary  vigor  not  only  of  Edward, 
but  of  Gloucester  and  Hastings,  —  when  one  morning, 
just  after  the  events  thus  rapidly  related,  the  hostelry 
of  Master  Sancroft,  in  the  suburban  parish  of  Marybone, 
rejoiced  in  a  motley  crowd  of  customers  and  topers. 

Some  half-score  soldiers,  returned  in  triumph  from 
the  royal  camp,  sat  round  a  table  placed  agreeably 
enough  in  the  deep  recess*  made  by  the  large  jutting  lat- 
tice; with  them  were  mingled  about  as  many  women, 
strangely  and  gaudily  clad.  These  last  were  all  young, 
one  or  two,  indeed,  little  advanced  from  childhood. 
But  there  was  no  expression  of  youth  in  their  hard, 
sinister  features:  coarse  paint  supplied  the  place  of 
bloom ;  the  very  youngest  had  a  wrinkle  on  her  brow ; 
their  forms  wanted  the  round  and  supple  grace  of  early 
years.  Living  principally  in  the  open  air,  trained  from 
infancy  to  feats  of  activity,  their  muscles  were  sharp 
and  prominent, —  their  aspects  had  something  of  mas- 
culine audacity  and  rudeness;  health  itself  seemed  in 
them  more  loathsome  than  disease.  Upon  those  faces  of 
bronze,  vice  had  set  its  ineffable,  unmistaken  seal.  To 
those  eyes  never  had  sprung  the  tears  of  compassion 
or  woman's  gentle    sorrow;  on    those  brows  never  had 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         167 

flushed  the  glow  of  modest  shame :  their  very  voices 
half  belied  their  sex, — harsh,  and  deep,  and  hoarse, 
their  laughter  loud  and  dissonant.  Some  amongst  them 
were  not  destitute  of  a  certain  beauty,  but  it  was  a 
beauty  of  feature  with  a  common  hideousness  of  ex- 
pression,—  an  expression  at  once  cunning,  bold,  callous, 
and  licentious.  Womanless,  through  the  worst  vices 
of  woman,  —  passionless,  through  the  premature  waste 
of  passion,  —  they  stood  between  the  sexes  like  foul  and 
monstrous  anomalies,  made  up  and  fashioned  from  the 
rank  depravities  of  both.  These  creatures  seemed  to 
have  newly  arrived  from  some  long  wayfaring:  their 
shoes  and  the  hems  of  their  robes  were  covered  with 
dust  and  mire ;  their  faces  were  heated ;  and  the  veins 
in  their  bare,  sinewy,  sunburned  arms  were  swollen  by 
fatigue.  Each  had  beside  her  on  the  floor  a  timbrel, — 
each  wore  at  her  girdle  a  long  knife  in  its  sheath :  well 
that  the  sheaths  hid  the  blades,  for  not  one  —  not  even 
that  which  yon  cold-eyed  child  of  fifteen  wore  —  but  had 
on  its  steel  the  dark  stain  of  human  blood! 

The  presence  of  soldiers,  fresh  from  the  scene  of  action, 
had  naturally  brought  into  the  hostelry  several  of  the 
idle  gossips  of  the  suburb,  and  these  stood  round  the 
table,  drinking  into  their  large  ears  the  boasting  narra- 
tives of  the  soldiers.  At  a  small  table,  apart  from  the 
revellers,  but  evidently  listening  with  attention  to  all 
the  news  of  the  hour,  sat  a  friar,  gravely  discussing  a 
mighty  tankard  of  huffcap,  and,  ever  and  anon,  as  he 
lifted  his  head  for  the  purpose  of  drinking,  glancing  a 
wanton  eye  at  one  of  the  tymbesteres. 

"  But  an  you  had  seen, "  said  a  trooper,  who  was  the 
mouthpiece  of  his  comrades  — "  an  you  had  seen  the 
raptrils  run  when  King  Edward  himself  led  the  charge! 
Marry,  it  was  like  a  cat  in  a  rabbit  burrow  !     Easy  to 


168         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS. 

see,  I  trow,  that  Earl  Warwick  was  not  amongst  them! 
His  men,  at  least,  fight  like  devils  !  " 

"  But  there  was  one  tall  fellow, "  said  a  soldier,  setting 
down  his  tankard,  "  who  made  a  good  fight  and  dour, 
and  but  for  me  and  my  comrades,  would  have  cut  his 
way  to  the  king." 

"Ay,  ay, —  true!  Ave  saved  his  Highness,  and  ought 
to  have  been  knighted, —  but  there's  no  gratitude  now- 
adays !  " 

"  And  who  was  this  doughty  warrior  ?  "  asked  one  of 
the  bystanders,  who  secretly  favored  the  rebellion. 

"  Why,  it  was  said  that  he  was  Robin  of  Redesdale. 
He  who  fought  my  Lord  Montagu  off  York. " 

"Our  Robin!"  exclaimed  several  voices.  "Ay,  he 
was  ever  a  brave  fellow, —  poor  Robin!" 

"'Your  Robin,'  and  'poor  Robin,'  varlets!  "  cried 
the  principal  trooper.  "  Have  a  care !  What  do  ye 
mean  by  your  Robin  ?  " 

"  Marry,  sir  soldier, "  quoth  a  butcher,  scratching  his 
head,  and  in  a  humble  voice,  —  "  craving  your  pardon, 
and  the  king's,  this  Master  Robin  sojourned  a  short 
time  in  this  hamlet,  and  was  a  kind  neighbor,  and 
mighty  glib  of  the  tongue.  Don't  ye  mind,  neighbors," 
he  added,  rapidly,  eager  to  change  the  conversation, 
"  how  he  made  us  leave  off  when  we  were  just  about 
burning  Adam  Warner,  the  old  nigromancer,  in  his  den 
yonder  1  Who  elso  could  have  done  that  1  But  an  we 
had  known  Robin  had  been  a  rebel  to  sweet  King  Edward, 
we  'd  have  roasted  him  along  with  the  wizard !  " 

One  of  the  timbrel-girls,  the  leader  of  the  choir,  her 
arm  round  a  soldier's  neck,  looked  up  at  the  last  speech, 
and  her  eye  followed  the  gesture  of  the  butcher,  as  he 
pointed  through  the  open  lattice  to  the  sombre,  ruinous 
abode  of  Adam  Warner. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS.         169 

"  Was  that  the  house  ye  would  have  burned  1  "  she 
asked,  abruptly. 

"  Yes ;  but  Robin  told  us  the  king  would  hang  those 
who  took  on  them  the  king's  blessed  privilege  of  burning 
nigromancers ;  and,  sure  enough,  old  Adam  Warner  was 
advanced  to  be  wizard-in-chief  to  the  king's  own  highness 
a  week  or  two  afterwards." 

The  friar  had  made  a  slight  movement  at  the  name 
of  Warner;  he  now  pushed  his  stool  nearer  to  the 
principal  group,  and  drew  his  hood  completely  over  his 
countenance. 

"Yea!  "  exclaimed  the  mechanic,  whose  son  had  been 
the  innocent  cause  of  the  memorable  siege  to  poor  Adam's 
dilapidated  fortress,  related  in  the  first  book  of  this  nar- 
rative,—  "yea;  and  what  did  he  when  there?  Did  he 
not  devise  a  horrible  engine  for  the  destruction  of  the 
poor,  —  an  engine  that  was  to  do  all  the  work  in  England 
by  the  devil's  help  1  —  so  that  if  a  gentleman  wanted 
a  coat  of  mail,  or  a  cloth  tunic;  if  his  dame  needed  a 
Norwich  worsted,  if  a  yeoman  lacked  a  plough  or  a 
wagon,  or  his  good  wife  a  pot  or  a  kettle, —  they  were  to 
go,  not  to  the  armorer,  and  the  draper,  and  the  tailor, 
and  the  weaver,  and  the  wheelwright,  and  the  black- 
smith,—  but,  hey  presto!  Master  Warner  sets  his  imps 
a  churning,  and  turned  ye  out  mail  and  tunic,  worsted 
and  wagon,  kettle  and  pot,  spick  and  span  new  from  his 
brewage  of  vapor  and  sea-coal!  Oh,  have  I  not  heard 
enough  of  the  sorcerer  from  my  brother,  who  works  in 
the  Chepe  for  Master  Stockton,  the  mercer  ?  —  and 
Master  Stockton  was  one  of  the  worshipful  deputies  to 
whom  the  old  nigromancer  had  the  front  to  boast  his 
devices. " 

"  It  is  true, "  said  the  friar,  suddenly. 

"  Yes,  reverend  father,  it  is  true, "  said  the  mechanic, 


170         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

doffing  his  cap,  and  inclining  his  swarthy  face  to  this 
unexpected  witness  of  his  veracity.  A  murmur  of  wrath 
and  hatred  was  heard  amongst  the  bystanders.  The 
soldiers  indifferently  turned  to  their  female  companions. 
There  was  a  brief  silence;  and,  involuntarily,  the  gos- 
sips stretched  over  the  table  to  catch  sight  of  the  house 
of  so  demoniac  an  oppressor  of  the  poor. 

"  See, "  said  the  baker,  "  the  smoke  still  curls  from 
the  roof-top !  I  heard  he  had  come  back.  Old  Madge, 
his  handmaid,  has  bought  cimnel-cakes  of  me  the  last 
week  or  so;  nothing  less  than  the  finest  wheat  serves 
him  now,  I  trow.      However,  right 's  right,  and  —  " 

"  Come  back !  "  cried  the  fierce  mechanic,  "  the  owl 
hath  kept  close  in  his  roost!  An  it  were  not  for  the 
king's  favor,  I  would  soon  see  how  the  wizard  liked 
to  have  fire  and  water  brought  to  bear  against  him- 
self! " 

"  Sit  down,  sweetheart,"  whispered  one  of  the  young 
tymbesteres  to  the  last  speaker, — 

"  Come  kiss  me,  my  darling, 
Warm  kisses  I  trade  for  —  " 

"  A  vaunt !  "  quoth  the  mechanic,  gruffly,  and  shaking 
off  the  seductive  arm  of  the  tymbestere, —  "avaunt!  I 
have  neither  liefe  nor  halfpence  for  thee  and  thine.  Out 
on  thee, —  a  child  of  thy  years,  a  rope's  end  to  thy  back 
were  a  friend's  best  kindness  !  " 

The  girl's  eyes  sparkled,  she  instinctively  put  her  hand 
to  her  knife ;  then  turning  to  a  soldier  by  her  side,  she 
said,  "  Hear  you  that,  and  sit  still  1  " 

"  Thunder  and  wounds  !  "  growled  the  soldier  thus 
appealed  to,  —  "  more  respect  to  the  sex,  knave ;  if  I 
don't  break  thy  fool's  costard  with  my  sword-hilt,  it  is 
only  because  Red  Grisell  can  take  care  of  herself  against 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         171 

twenty  such  losels  as  thou.  These  honest  girls  have 
been  to  the  wars  with  us;  King  Edward  grudges  no  man 
his  jolly  fere.  Speak  up  for  thyself,  Grisell!  How 
many  tall  fellows  didst  thou  put  out  of  their  pain,  after 
the  battle  of  Losecote  1  " 

"  Only  five,  Hal, "  replied  the  cold-eyed  girl,  and 
showing  her  glittering  teeth  with  the  grin  of  a  young 
tigress;  "  but  one  was  a  captain.  I  shall  do  better  next 
time :  it  was  my  first  battle,  thou  knowest !  " 

The  more  timid  of  the  bystanders  exchanged  a  glance 
of  horror,  and  drew  back.  The  mechanic  resumed, 
sullenly, — 

"  I  seek  no  quarrel  with  lass  or  lover.  I  am  a  plain, 
blunt  man,  with  a  wife  and  children,  who  are  dear  to 
me;  and  if  I  have  a  grudge  to  the  nigromancer,  it  is 
because  he  glamoured  my  poor  boy  Tim.  See !  "  —  and 
he  caught  up  a  blue-eyed,  handsome  boy,  who  had  been 
clinging  to  his  side,  and  baring  the  child's  arm,  showed 
it  to  the  spectators ;  there  was  a  large  scar  on  the  limb, 
and  it  was  shrunk  and  withered. 

"  It  was  my  own  fault, "  said  the  little  fellow,  depre- 
catingly. 

The  affectionate  father  silenced  the  sufferer  with  a  cuff 
on  the  cheek,  and  resumed,  "  Ye  note,  neighbors,  the 
day  when  the  foul  wizard  took  this  little  one  in  his  arms : 
well,  three  weeks  afterwards,  —  that  very  day  three 
weeks, —  as  he  was  standing  like  a  lamb  by  the  fire,  the 
good  wife's  caldron  seethed  over  without  reason  or  rhyme, 
and  scalded  his  arm  till  it  rivelled  up  like  a  leaf  in 
November;  and  if  that  is  not  glamour,  why  have  we 
laws  against  witchcraft?  " 

"  True  —  true !  "  groaned  the  chorus. 

The  boy,  who  had  borne  his  father's  blow  without  a 
murmur,  now  again  attempted  remonstrance.     "  The  hot 


172  THE    LAST   OF   THE    BARONS. 

water  went  over  the  gray  cat,  too,  but  Master  Warnei 
never  bewitched  her,  daddy." 

"  He  takes  his  part !  —  You  hear  the  daff  laddy  1  He 
takes  the  old  nigromancer's  part,  —  a  sure  sign  of  the 
witchcraft ;  but  I  '11  leather  it  out  of  thee,  I  will ! "  and 
the  mechanic  again  raised  his  weighty  arm.  The  child 
did  not  this  time  await  the  blow;  he  dodged  under  the 
butcher's  apron,  gained  the  door,  and  disappeared.  "  And 
he  teaches  our  own  children  to  fly  in  our  faces!  "  said  the 
father,  in  a  kind  of  whimper. 

The  neighbors  sighed  in  commiseration. 

"  Oh !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  fiercer  tone,  grinding  his 
teeth,  and  shaking  his  clinched  fist  towards  Adam 
Warner's  melancholy  house, —  "  I  say  again,  if  the  king 
did  not  protect  the  vile  sorcerer,  I  would  free  the  land 
from  his  devilries,  ere  his  black  master  could  come  to 
his  help." 

"  The  king  cares  not  a  straw  for  Master  Warner  or 
his  inventions,  my  son,"  said  a  rough,  loud  voice.  All 
turned,  and  saw  the  friar  standing  in  the  midst  of  the 
circle.  "  Know  ye  not,  my  children,  that  the  king 
sent  the  wretch  neck  and  crop  out  of  the  palace,  for 
having  bewitched  the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  his  Grace 
the  Lord  Clarence,  so  that  they  turned  unnaturally 
against  their  own  kinsman,  his  Highness.  But  '  Manus 
malorum  suos  bonos  breaket, '  —  that  is  to  say,  the  fists 
of  wicked  men  only  whack  their  own  bones.  Ye  have 
all  heard  tell  of  Friar  Bungey,    my  children  1  " 

"  Ay,  ay !  "  answered  two  or  three  in  a  breath,  —  "a 
wizard,  it's  true,  and  a  mighty  one;  but  he  never  did 
harm  to  the  poor,  though  they  do  say  he  made  a  quaint 
image  of  the  earl,  and  —  " 

"Tut  — tut!  "  interrupted  the  friar,  "all  Bungey  did 
was  to  try  to  disenchant  the  Lord  Warwick,  whom  yon 


fro 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BATONS.         17/ 

miscreant  had  spellbound.  Poor  Bungey !  he  is  a  friend 
to  the  people:  and  when  he  found  that  Master  Adam 
was  making  a  device  for  their  ruin,  he  spared  no  toil,  I 
assure  ye,  to  frustrate  the  iniquity.  Oh,  how  he  fasted 
and  watched!  Oh,  how  many  a  time  he  fought,  tooth 
and  nail,  with  the  devil  in  person,  to  get  at  the  infernal 
invention !  for  if  he  had  that  invention  once  in  his  hands, 
he  could  turn  it  to  good  account,  I  can  promise  ye ;  and 
give  ye  rain  for  the  green  blade,  and  sun  for  the  ripe- 
sheaf.  But  the  fiend  got  the  better  at  first;  and  King 
Edward,  bewitched  himself  for  the  moment,  would  have 
hanged  Friar  Bungey  for  crossing  old  Adam,  if  he  had 
not  called  three  times,  in  a  loud  voice,  '  Presto  pepran- 
xenon !  '  changed  himself  into  a  bird,  and  flown  out  of 
the  window.  As  soon  as  Master  Adam  Warner  found 
the  field  clear  to  himself,  he  employed  his  daughter  to 
bewitch  the  Lord  Hastings;  he  set  brother  against 
brother,  and  made  the  king  and  Lord  George  fall  to 
loggerheads ;  he  stirred  up  the  rebellion ;  and  where  he 
would  have  stopped  the  foul  fiend  only  knows,  if  your 
friend  Friar  Bungey,  who,  though  a  wizard,  as  you  say, 
is  only  so  for  your  benefit  (and  a  holy  priest  into  the 
bargain),  had  not,  by  aid  of  a  good  spirit,  whom  he  con- 
jured up  in  the  Island  of  Tartary,  disenchanted  the 
king,  and  made  him  see  in  a  dream  what  the  villanous 
Warner  was  devising  against  his  crown  and  his  people, 
—  whereon  his  Highness  sent  Master  Warner  and  his 
daughter  back  to  their  roost,  and,  helped  by  Friar  Bun- 
gey, beat  his  enemies  out  of  the  kingdom.  So,  if  ye 
have  a  mind  to  save  your  children  from  mischief  and 
malice,  ye  may  set  to  work  with  good  heart,  always 
provided  that  ye  touch  not  old  Adam's  iron  invention. 
Woe  betide  ye,  if  ye  think  to  destroy  that!  Bring  it 
safe  to  Friar  Bungey,  whom  ye  will  find  returned  to  the 


174         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

palace,  and  journeymen's  wages  will  be  a  penny  a  day 
higher  for  the  next  ten  years  to  come  !  "  With  these 
words  the  friar  threw  down  his  reckoning,  and  moved 
majestically  to  the  door. 

"  An  I  might  trust  you  1  "  said  Tim's  father,  laying 
hold  of  the  friar's  serge. 

"  Ye  may,  ye  may  !  "  cried  the  leader  of  the  tymbes- 
teres,  starting  up  from  the  lap  of  her  soldier,  "  for  it  is 
Friar  Bungey  himself  !  " 

A  movement  of  astonishment  and  terror  was  universal. 

"  Friar  Bungey  himself  !  "  repeated  the  burly  impostor. 
"  Right,  lassie,  right ;  and  he  now  goes  to  the  palace  of 
the  Tower,  to  mutter  good  spells  in  King  Edward's  ear, 
—  spells  to  defeat  the  malignant  ones,  and  to  lower  the 
price  of  beer.      Wax  wobiscum !  " 

With  that  salutation,  more  benevolent  than  accurate, 
the  friar  vanished  from  the  room;  the  chief  of  the 
tymbesteres  leaped  lightly  on  the  table,  put  one  foot 
on  the  soldier's  shoulder,  and  sprang  through  the  open 
lattice.  She  found  the  friar  in  the  act  of  mounting 
a  sturdy  mule,  which  had  been  tied  to  a  post  by  the 
door. 

"  Fie,  Graul  Skellet !  Fie,  Graul !  "  said  the  conjurer. 
"  Respect  for  my  serge.  We  must  not  be  noted  together 
out  of  door  in  the  daylight.  There  's  a  groat  for  thee. 
Vade,  execrabilis, — that  is,  Good  day  to  thee,  pretty 
rogue  !  " 

"  A  word,  friar,  a  word.  Wouldst  thou  have  the 
old  man  burned,  drowned,  or  torn  piecemeal !  He  hath 
a  daughter,  too,  who  once  sought  to  mar  our  trade  with 
her  gittern ;  a  daughter,  then  in  a  kirtle  that  I  would 
not  have  nimmed  from  a  hedge,  but  whom  I  last  saw  in 
sarcenet  and  lawn,  with  a  great  lord  for  her  fere."  The 
tymbestere's   eyes   shone  with    malignant   envy,   as  she 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         175 

added,  "  Graul  Skellet  loves  not  to  see  those  who  have 
worn  worsted  and  say,  walk  in  sarcenet  and  lawn  !  Graul 
Skellet  loves  not  wenches  who  have  lords  for  their  feres, 
and  yet  who  shrink  from  Graul  and  her  sisters  as  the 
sound  from  the  leper. " 

"  Fegs, "  answered  the  friar,  impatiently,  "  I  know 
nought  against  the  daughter,  —  a  pretty  lass,  hut  too 
high  for  my  kisses.  And  as  "for  the  father,  I  want  not 
the  man's  life,  —  that  is,  not  very  specially,  —  hut  his 
model,  his  mechanical.  He  may  go  free,  if  that  can  he 
compassed ;  if  not,  —  why,  the  model  at  all  risks !  Serve 
me  in  this." 

"  And  thou  will  teach  me  the  last  tricks  of  the  cards, 
and  thy  great  art  of  making  phantoms  glide  by  on  the 
wall  1.  " 

"  Bring  the  model  intact,  and  I  will  teach  thee  more, 
Graul,  —  the  dead  man's  candle,  and  the  charm  of  the 
newt ;  and  I  '11  give  thee,  to  hoot,  the  caul  of  the  parri- 
cide, that  thou  hast  prayed  me  so  oft  for.  Hum !  —  thou 
hast  a  girl  in  thy  troop  who  hath  a  blinking  eye  that  well 
pleases  me ;  —  but  go  now,  and  obey  me.  Work  before 
play,  —  and  grace  before  pudding  !  " 

The  tymbestere  nodded,  snapped  her  fingers  in  the  air, 
and,  humming  no  holy  ditty,  returned  to  the  house 
through  the  doorway. 

This  short  conference  betrays  to  the  reader  the  rela- 
tions, mutually  advantageous,  which  subsisted  between 
the  conjurer  and  the  tymbesteres.  Their  troop  (the 
mothers,  perchance,  of  the  generation  we  treat  of)  had 
been  familiar  to  the  friar  in  his  old  capacity  of  mounte- 
bank or  tregetour,  and  in  his  clerical  and  courtly  eleva- 
tion, he  did  not  disdain  an  ancient  connection  that  served 
him  well  with  the  populace;  for  these  grim  children  of 
vice  seemed  present  in  every  place  where  pastime  was 


176         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

gay,  or  strife  was  rampant;  in  peace,  at  the  merry- 
makings and  the  hostelries,  —  in  war,  following  the 
camp,  and  seen,  at  night,  prowling  through  the  battle- 
fields to  despatch  the  wounded  and  to  rifle  the  slain :  — 
in  merry-making,  hostelry,  or  in  camp,  they  could  thus 
still  spread  the  fame  of  Friar  Bungey,  and  uphold  his 
repute  both  for  terrible  lore  and  for  hearty  love  of  the 
commons. 

Nor  was  this  all:  both  tymbesteres  and  conjurer  were 
fortune-tellers  by  profession.  They  could  interchange 
the  anecdotes  each  picked  up  in  their  different  lines. 
The  tymbestere  could  thus  learn  the  secrets  of  gentle 
and  courtier,  —  the  conjurer  those  of  the  artisan  and 
mechanic. 

Unconscious  of  the  formidable  dispositions  of  their 
neighbors,  Sibyll  and  Warner  were  inhaling  the  sweet 
air  of  the  early  spring  in  their  little  garden.  His  dis- 
grace had  affected  the  philosopher  less  than  might  be 
supposed.  True,  that  the  loss  of  the  king's  favor  was 
the  deferring  indefinitely  —  perhaps  for  life  —  any  prac- 
tical application  of  his  adored  theory ;  and  yet,  somehow 
or  other,  the  theory  itself  consoled  him.  At  the  worst, 
he  should  find  some  disciple,  some  ingenious  student, 
more  fortunate  than  himself,  to  whom  he  could  beq\ieath 
the  secret,  and  who,  when  Adam  was  in  his  grave,  would 
teach  the  world  to  revere  his  name.  Meanwhile,  his 
time  was  his  own:  he  was  lord  of  a  home,  though  ruined 
and  desolate ;  he  was  free,  with  his  free  thoughts ;  and 
therefore,  as  he  paced  the  narrow  garden,  his  step  was 
lighter,  his  mind  less  absent,  than  when  parched  with 
feverish  fear  and  hope,  for  the  immediate  practical  suc- 
cess of  a  principle  which  was  to  be  tried  before  the 
hazardous  tribunal  of  prejudice  and  ignorance. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  sage,  "  I  feel,  for  the  first  time 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAEONS.         177 

for  years,  the  distinction  of  the  seasons.  I  feel  that 
we  are  walking  in  the  pleasant  spring.  Young  days 
come  hack  to  me  like  dreams;  and  I  could  almost  think 
thy  mother  were  once  more  hy  my  side !  " 

Sibyll  pressed  her  father's  hand,  and  a  soft  hut 
melancholy  sigh  stirred  her  rosy  lips.  She,  too,  felt 
the.  balm  of  the  young  year;  yet  her  father's  words 
broke  upon  sad  and  anxious  musings.  Not  to  youth 
as  to  age,  not  to  loving  fancy  as  to  baffled  wisdom,  has 
seclusion  charms  that  compensate  for  the  passionate 
and  active  world !  On  coming  back  to  the  old  house, 
on  glancing  round  its  mildewed  Avails,  comfortless  and 
bare,  the  neglected,  weed-grown  garden,  Sibyll  had 
shuddered  in  dismay.  Had  her  ambition  fallen  again 
into  its  old  abject  state  1  Were  all  her  hopes  to  restore 
her  ancestral  fortunes,  to  vindicate  her  dear  father's 
fame,  shrunk  into  this  slough  of  actual  poverty, —  the 
butterfly's  wings  folded  back  into  the  chrysalis  shroud 
of  torpor?  The  vast  disparity  between  herself  and 
Hastings  had  not  struck  her  so  forcibly  at  the  court; 
here,  at  home,  the  very  walls  proclaimed  it.  When 
Edward  had  dismissed  the  unwelcome  witnesses  of  his 
attempted  crime,  he  had  given  orders  that  they  should 
be  conducted  to  their  house  through  the  most  private 
ways.  He  naturally  desired  to  create  no  curious  com- 
ment upon  their  departure.  Unperceived  by  their 
neighbors,  Sibyll  and  her  father  had  gained  access 
by  the  garden  gate.  Old  Madge  received  them  in 
dismay ;  for  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
Sibyll  weekly  at  the  palace,  and  had  gained,  in  the 
old  familiarity  subsisting,  then,  between  maiden  and 
nurse,  some  insight  into  her  heart.  She  had  cherished 
the  fondest  hopes  for  the  fate  of  her  young  mistress; 
—  and   now,    to    labor   and    to    penury    had    the    fate 

VOL.  II. —  12 


178         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

returned!  The  guard  who  accompanied  them,  accord- 
ing to  Edward's  orders,  left  some  pieces  of  gold,  which 
Adam  rejected,  but  Madge  secretly  received  and  judi- 
ciously expended.  And  this  was  all  their  wealth.  But 
not  of  toil  nor  of  penury  in  themselves  thought  Sibyll : 
she  thought  but  of  Hastings,  —  wildly,  passionately, 
trustfully,  unceasingly,  of  the  absent  Hastings.  Oh! 
he  would  seek  her,  —  he  would  come ;  her  reverse 
would  but  the  more  endear  her  to  him!  Hastings 
came  not.  She  soon  learned  the  wherefore.  War 
threatened  the  land, —  he  was  at  his  post  at  the  head 
of  armies. 

Oh,  with  what  panoply  of  prayer  she  sought  to 
shield  that  beloved  breast !  And  now  the  old  man 
spoke  of  the  blessed  spring,  the  holiday  time  of  lovers 
and  of  love,  and  the  young  girl,  sighing,  said  to  her 
mournful  heart,  "  The  world  hath  its  sun,  —  where  is 
mine  ?  " 

The  peacock  strutted  up  to  his  poor  protectors,  and 
spread  his  plumes  to  the  gilding  beams.  And  then 
Sibyll  recalled  the  day  when  she  had  walked  in  that 
spot  with  Marmaduke,  and  he  had  talked  of  his  youth, 
ambition,  and  lusty  hopes,  while,  silent  and  absorbed, 
she  had  thought  within  herself,  "  Could  the  world  be 
open  to  me  as  to  him,  —  I,  too,  have  ambition,  and  it 
should  find  its  goal."  Now,  what  contrast  between 
the  two,  —  the  man  enriched  and  honored,  if  to-day  in 
peril  or  in  exile,  to-morrow  free  to  march  forward  still 
on  his  career:  the  Avorld  the  country  to  him  whose 
heart  was  bold  and  whose  name  was  stainless!  And 
she,  the  woman,  brought  back  to  the  prison-home, 
scorn  around  her,  impotent  to  avenge,  and  forbidden 
to  fly  !  Wherefore  ?  —  Sibyll  felt  her  superiority  of 
mind,   of  thought,    of  nature, —  wherefore  the  contrast? 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         179 

The  success  was  that  of  man,  the  discomfiture  that  of 
woman.  Woe  to  the  man  who  precedes  his  age,  but 
never  yet  has  an  age  been  in  which  genius  and  ambition 
are  safe  to  woman ! 

The  father  and  the  child  turned  into  their  house: 
the  day  was  declining;  Adam  mounted  to  his  studious 
chamber.      Sibyll  sought  the  solitary  servant. 

"  What  tidings,  oh,  what  tidings  1  The  war,  you 
say,  is  over;  the  great  earl,  his  sweet  daughter,  safe 
upon  the  seas,  but  Hastings,  oh,  Hastings!  what  of 
him  1  " 

"  My  bonnibell,  my  ladybird,  I  have  none  but  good 
tales  to  tell  thee.  I  saw  and  spoke  with  a  soldier  who 
served  under  Lord  Hastings  himself;  he  is  unscathed, 
he  is  in  London.  But  they  say  that  one  of  his  bands 
is  quartered  in  the  suburb,  and  that  there  is  a  report 
of  a  rising  in  Hertfordshire." 

"  When  will  peace  come  to  England  and  to  me  !  " 
sighed  Sibyll. 


180        THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

This  World's  Justice,  and  the  Wisdom  of  our  Ancestors. 

The  night  had  now  commenced,  and  Sibyll  was  still 
listening  —  or,  perhaps,  listening  not  —  to  the  soothing 
babble  of  the  venerable  servant.  They  were  both  seated 
in  the  little  room  that  adjoined  the  hall,  and  their  only 
light  came  through  the  door  opening  on  the  garden,  — 
a  gray,  indistinct  twilight,  relieved  by  the  few  earliest 
stars.  The  peacock,  his  head  under  his  wing,  roosted 
on  the  balustrade,  and  the  song  of  the  nightingale,  from 
amidst  one  of  the  neighboring  copses,  which  studded 
the  ground  towards  the  chase  of  Mary  bone,  came  soft 
and  distant  on  the  serene  air.  The  balm  and  freshness 
of  spring  were  felt  in  the  dews,  in  the  skies,  in  the 
sweet  breath  of  young  herb  and  leaf ;  —  through  the 
calm  of  ever-watchful  nature,  it  seemed  as  if  you  might 
mark,  distinct  and  visible,  minute  after  minute,  the 
blessed  growth  of  April  into  May. 

Suddenly  Madge  uttered  a  cry  of  alarm,  and  pointed 
towards  the  opposite  wall.  Sibyll,  startled  from  her 
re  very,  looked  up,  and  saw  something  dusk  and  dwarf- 
like perched  upon  the  crumbling  eminence.  Presently 
this  apparition  leaped  lightly  into  the  garden,  and  the 
alarm  of  the  women  was  lessened  on  seeing  a  young  boy 
creep  stealthily  over  the  grass,  and  approach  the  open 
door. 

"  Hey,  child!  "  said  Madge,  rising.     "  What  wantest 

thou?" 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         131 

"Hist,  gammer,  hist!  Ah!  the  young  mistress? 
That's  well.  Hist!  I  say  again."  The  boy  entered 
the  room.  "  I  'm  in  time  to  save  you.  In  half  an 
hour  your  house  will  be  broken  into,  perhaps  burned. 
The  boys  are  clapping  their  hands  now  at  the  thoughts 
of  the  bonfire.  Father  and  all  the  neighbors  are  getting 
ready.  Hark!  hark!  Ko,  it  is  only  the  wind!  The 
tymbesteres  are  to  give  note.  When  you  hear  their 
bells  tinkle,  the  mob  will  meet.  Run  for  your  lives, 
you  and  the  old  man,  and  don't  ever  say  it  was  poor 
Tim  who  told  you  this,  for  father  would  beat  me  to 
death.  Ye  can  still  get  through  the  garden  into  the 
fields.     Quick!" 

"  I  will  go  to  the  master,"  exclaimed  Madge,  hurry- 
ing from  the  room. 

The  child  caught  Sibyll's  cold  hand  through  the 
dark.  "  And  I  say,  mistress,  if  his  worship  is  a  wizard, 
don't  let  him  punish  father  and  mother,  or  poor  Tim, 
or  his  little  sister;  though  Tim  was  once  naughty,  and 
hooted  Master  Warner.  Many,  many,  many  a  time 
and  oft  have  I  seen  that  kind,  mild  face  in  my  sleep, 
just  as  when  it  bent  over  me,  while  I  kicked  and 
screamed ;  and  the  poor  gentleman  said,  '  Thinkest  thou 
I  would  harm  thee? '  But  he  '11  forgive  me  now,  will 
he  not?  And  when  I  turned  the  seething  water  over 
myself,  and  they  said  it  was  all  along  of  the  wizard,  my 
heart  pained  more  than  the  arm.  But  they  whip  me, 
and  groan  out  that  the  devil  is  in  me,  if  I  don't  say 
that  the  kettle  upset  of  itself!  Oh,  those  tymbesteres! 
Mistress,  did  you  ever  see  them?  They  fright  me.  If 
you  could  hear  how  they  set  on  all  the  neighbors !  And 
their  laugh,  —  it  makes  the  hair  stand  on  end  !  But  you 
will  get  away,  and  thank  Tim  too!  Oh,  I  shall  laugh 
then,  when  they  find  the  old  house  empty!  " 


182         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

"  May  our  dear  Lord  bless  thee,  —  bless  thee,  child," 
sobbed  Sibyll,  clasping  the  boy  in  her  arms,  and  kiss- 
ing him,  while  her  tears  bathed  his  cheeks. 

A  light  gleamed  on  the  threshold,  —  Madge,  holding  a 
candle,  appeared  with  Warner,  his  hat  and  cloak  thrown 
on  in  haste.  "  What  is  this  ?  "  said  the  poor  scholar. 
"  Can  it  be  true  1  Is  mankind  so  cruel  1  What  have  I 
done,  woe  is  me  !  what  have  I  done  to  deserve  this?  " 

"Come,  dear  father,  quick,"  said  Sibyll,  drying  her 
tears,  and  wakened,  by  the  presence  of  the  old  man,  into 
energy  and  courage.  "  But  put  thy  hand  on  this  boy's 
head,  and  bless  him ;  for  it  is  he  who  has  haply  saved 
us." 

The  boy  trembled  a  moment  as  the  long-bearded  face 
turned  towards  him,  but  when  he  caught  and  recognized 
those  meek,  sweet  eyes,  his  superstition  vanished,  and 
it  was  but  a  holy  and  grateful  awe  that  thrilled  his 
young  blood,  as  the  old  man  placed  both  withered  hands 
over  his  yellow  hair,  and  murmured, 

u  God  shield  thy  youth,  God  make  thy  manhood 
worthy,  —  God  give  thee  children  in  thine  old  age 
with  hearts  like  thine !  " 

Scarcely  had  the  prayer  ceased,  when  the  clash  of 
timbrels,  with  their  jingling  bells,  was  heard  in  the 
street.  Once,  twice,  again,  and  a  fierce  yell  closed  in 
chorus,  —  caught  up  and  echoed  from  corner  to  corner, 
from  house  to  house. 

"Run  —  run!"  cried  the  boy,  turning  white  with 
terror. 

"But  the  Eureka,  —  my  hope,  my  mind's  child!" 
exclaimed  Adam,  suddenly,  and  halting  at  the  door. 

"  Eh  ■ — eh  !  "  said  Madge,  pushing  him  forward.  "  It 
is  too  heavy  to  move;  thou  couldst  not  lift  it.  Think 
of  thine  own  flesh  and  blood,  — of  thy  daughter,  of  her 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  183 

dead  mother.  Save  her  life ,  if  thou  carest  not  for  thine 
own  !  " 

"Go,  Sibyll,  go,  —  and  thou,  Madge;  I  will  stay. 
What  matters  my  life,  it  is  but  the  servant  of  a  thought ! 
Perish  master,  —  perish  slave!  " 

"  Father,  unless  you  come  with  me,  I  stir  not.  Fly 
or  perish  !  Your  fate  is  mine  !  Another  minute!  Oh, 
heaven  of  mercy ,  that  roar  again !     We  are  both  lost !  " 

"Go,  sir,  go;  they  care  not  for  your  iron,  —  iron 
cannot  feel.  They  will  not  touch  that!  Have  not 
your  daughter's  life  upon  your  soul !  " 

"Sibyll,  Sibyll, — forgive  me!  Come!"  said  War- 
ner, conscience -stricken  at  the  appeal. 

Madge  and  the  boy  ran  forwards:  the  old  woman 
unbarred  the  garden  gate,  —  Sibyll  and  her  father  went 
forth.  The  fields  stretched  before  them,  calm  and 
solitary,  —  the  boy  leaped  up,  kissed  Sibyll's  pale 
cheek,  and  then  bounded  across  the  grass,  and  vanished. 

"  Loiter  not,  Madge.      Come  !  "  cried  Sibyll. 

"Nay,"  said  the  old  woman,  shrinking  back;  "they 
bear  no  grudge  to  me ;  I  am  too  old  to  do  aught  but 
burden  ye.  I  will  stay,  and  perchance  save  the  house 
and  the  chattels,  and  poor  master's  deft  contrivance. 
Whist !  thou  knowest  his  heart  would  break  if  none 
were  by  to  guard  it." 

With  that  the  faithful  servant  thrust  the  broad  pieces 
that  yet  remained  of  the  king's  gift  into  the  gipsire 
Sibyll  wore  at  her  girdle,  and  then  closed  and  rebarred 
the  door  before  they  could  detain  her. 

"  It  is  base  to  leave  her,"  said  the  scholar-gentleman. 

The  noble  Sibyll  could  not  refute  her  father.  Afar 
they  heard  the  trampling  of  feet:  suddenly  a  dark  red 
light  shot  up  into  the  blue  air,  a  light  from  the  flame 
of  many  torches. 


184         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

"  The  wizard,  the  wizard!  Death  to  the  wizard,  who 
would  starve  the  poor!"  yelled  forth,  and  was  echoed 
by  a  stern  hurrah. 

Adam  stood  motionless,  Sibyll  by  his  side. 

"The  wizard  and  his  daughter!"  shrieked  a  sharp 
single  voice,  the  voice  of  Graul  the  tymhestere. 

Adam  turned.  "Ply,  my  child,  —  they  now  threaten 
thee.  Come,  come,  come;"  and,  taking  her  by  the 
hand,  he  hurried  her  across  the  fields,  skirting  the 
hedge,  their  shadows  dodging,  irregular,  and  quaint, 
on  the  starlit  sward.  The  father  had  lost  all  thought 
—  all  care,  but  for  the  daughter's  life.  They  paused 
at  last,  out  of  breath  and  exhausted:  the  sounds  at  the 
distance  were  lulled  and  hushed.  They  looked  towards 
the  direction  of  the  home  they  had  abandoned,  expecting 
to  see  the  flames  destined  to  consume  it  reddening  the 
sky;  but  all  was  dark, — or,  rather,  no  light  save  the 
holy  stars  and  the  rising  moon  offended  the  majestic 
heaven. 

"  They  cannot  harm  the  poor  old  woman ;  she  hath  no 
lore.  On  her  gray  hairs  has  fallen  not  the  curse  of 
men's  hate !  "  said  Warner. 

"  Right,  father;  when  they  found  us  flown,  doubtless 
the  cruel  ones  dispersed.  But  they  may  search  yet  for 
thee.  Lean  on  me,  I  am  strong  and  young.  Another 
effort,  and  we  gain  the  safe  coverts  of  the  Chase." 

While  yet  the  last  word  hung  on  her  lips,  they  saw, 
on  the  path  they  had  left,  the  burst  of  torch-light,  and 
heard  the  mob  hounding  on  their  track.  But  the  thick 
copses,  with  their  pale  green  just  budding  into  life, 
were  at  hand.  On  they  fled:  the  deer  started  from 
amidst  the  entangled  fern,  but  stood  and  gazed  at  them 
without  fear;  the  playful  hares  in  the  green  alleys 
ceased    not   their   nightly  sports  at  the   harmless  foot- 


THE    LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  185 

steps;  and  when  at  last,  in  the  dense  thicket,  they  sank 
down  on  the  mossy  roots  of  a  giant  oak,  the  nightingales 
overhead  chanted  as  if  in  melancholy  welcome.  They 
were  saved! 

But  in  their  home,  fierce  fires  glared  amidst  the  toss- 
ing torch-light;  the  crowd,  baffled  by  the  strength  of 
the  door,  scaled  the  wall,  broke  through  the  lattice- 
work of  the  hall  window,  and  streaming  through  room 
after  room,  roared  forth,  "Death  to  the  wizard!" 
Amidst  the  sordid  dresses  of  the  men,  the  soiled  and 
faded  tinsel  of  the  tymbesteres  gleamed  and  sparkled. 
It  was  a  scene  the  she-fiends  revelled  in,  —  dear  are 
outrage  and  malice,  and  the  excitement  of  turbulent 
passions,  and  the  savage  voices  of  frantic  men,  and  the 
thirst  of  blood,  to  those  everlasting  furies  of  a  mob, 
under  whatever  name  we  know  them,  in  whatever  time 
they  taint  with  their  presence,  —  women  in  whom 
womanhood  is  blasted ! 

Door  after  door  was  burst  open  with  cries  of  disap- 
pointed rage ;  at  last  they  ascended  the  turret-stairs  — 
they  found  a  small  door  barred  and  locked.  Tim's 
father,  a  huge  axe  in  his  brawny  arm,  shivered  the 
panels ;  the  crowd  rushed  in,  —  and  there ,  seated  amongst 
a  strange  and  motley  litter,  they  found  the  devoted 
Madge.  The  poor  old  woman  had  collected  into  this 
place,  as  the  stronghold  of  the  mansion,  whatever  porta- 
ble articles  seemed  to  her  most  precious,  either  from 
value  or  association.  Sibyll's  gittern  (Marmaduke's 
gift)  lay  amidst  a  lumber  of  tools  and  implements;  a 
faded  robe  of  her  dead  mother's,  treasured  by  Madge 
and  Sibyll  both,  as  a  relic  of  holy  love;  a  few  platters 
and  cups  of  pewter,  the  pride  of  old  Madge's  heart  to 
keep  bright  and  clean,  odds  and  ends  of  old  hangings; 
a  battered  silver  brooch   (a  love-gift  to  Madge  herself 


186         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

when  she  was  young),  —  these,  and  suchlike  scraps  of 
finery,  hoards  inestimable  to  the  household  memory  and 
affection,  lay  confusedly  heaped  around  the  huge  grim 
model,  before  which,  mute  and  tranquil,  sat  the  brave 
old  woman. 

The  crowd  halted,  and  stared  round  in  superstitious 
terror,  and  dumb  marvel. 

The  leader  of  the  tymbesteres  sprang  forward ,  — 

"  Where  is  thy  master,  old  hag,  and  where  the  bonny 
maid  who  glamours  lords  and  despises  us  bold  lassies  ?  " 

"  Alack !  master  and  the  damsel  have  gone  hours  ago  ! 
I  am  alone  in  the  house ;  what 's  your  will  1  " 

"  The  crone  looks  parlous  witchlike !  "  said  Tim's 
father,  crossing  himself,  and  somewhat  retreating  from 
her  gray,  unquiet  eyes.  And,  indeed,  poor  Madge, 
with  her  wrinkled  face,  bony  form,  and  high  cap, 
corresponded  far  more  with  the  vulgar  notions  of  a 
dabbler  in  the  black  art  than  did  Adam  Warner,  with 
his  comely  countenance  and  noble  mien. 

"So  she  doth,  indeed;  and  verily,"  said  a  hump- 
backed tinker,  "  if  we  were  to  try  a  dip  in  the  horse- 
pool  yonder  it  could  do  no  harm. " 

"  Away  with  her,  away  !  "  cried  several  voices  at  that 
humane  suggestion. 

"  Nay,  nay ,"  quoth  the  baker ;  "  she  is  a  douce  creature 
after  all,  and  hath  dealt  with  me  many  years.  I  don't 
care  what  becomes  of  the  wizard, — every  one  knows," 
he  added  with  pride,  "  that  I  was  one  of  the  first  to  set 
fire  to  his  house  when  Robin  gainsayed  it !  — ■  but  right 's 
right,  —  burn  the  master,  not  the  drudge  ! " 

This  intercession  might  have  prevailed,  but  unhap- 
pily, at  that  moment  Graul  Skellet,  who  had  secured 
two  stout  fellows  to  accomplish  the  object  so  desired  by 
Friar  Bungey,  laid  hands   on   the   model,   and,   at  her 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         187 

shrill  command,  the  men  advanced  and  dislodged  it 
from  its  place.  At  the  same  time,  the  other  tymbes- 
teres,  caught  by  the  sight  of  things  pleasing  to  their 
wonted  tastes,  threw  themselves,  one  upon  the  faded 
robe  Sibyll's  mother  had  worn  in  her  chaste  and  happy 
youth;  another,  upon  poor  Madge's  silver  brooch;  a 
third,  upon  the  gittern. 

These  various  attacks  roused  up  all  the  spirit  and 
wrath  of  the  old  woman;  her  cries  of  distress,  as  she 
darted  from  one  to  the  other,  striking  to  the  right  and 
left  with  her  feeble  arms,  her  form  trembling  with 
passion,  were  at  once  ludicrous  and  piteous,  and  these 
were  responded  to  by  the  shrill  exclamations  of  the 
fierce  tymbesteres,  as  they  retorted  scratch  for  scratch, 
and  blow  for  blow.  The  spectators  grew  animated  by 
the  sight  of  actual  outrage  and  resistance :  the  hump- 
backed tinker,  whose  unwholesome  fancy  one  of  the 
aggrieved  tymbesteres  had  mightily  warmed,  hastened 
to  the  relief  of  his  virago;  and,  rendered  furious  by 
finding  ten  nails  fastened  suddenly  on  his  face,  he 
struck  down  the  poor  creature  by  a  blow  that  stunned 
her,  seized  her  in  his  arms,  —  for  deformed  and  weakly 
as  the  tinker  was,  the  old  woman,  now  sense  and  spirit 
were  gone,  was  as  light  as  skin  and  bone  could  be, — « 
and,  followed  by  half  a  score  of  his  comrades,  whooping 
and  laughing,  bore  her  down  the  stairs.  Tim's  father, 
who,  whether  from  parental  affection,  or,  as  is  more 
probable,  from  the  jealous  hatred  and  prejudice  of 
ignorant  industry,  was  bent  upon  Adam's  destruction, 
hallooed  on  some  of  his  fiercer  fellows  into  the  garden, 
tracked  the  footsteps  of  the  fugitives  by  the  trampled 
grass,  and  bounded  over  the  wall  in  fruitless  chase. 
But  on  went  the  more  giddy  of  the  mob,  rather  in  sport 
than  in  cruelty,  with  a  chorus  of  drunken  apprentices 


188         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

and  riotous  boys,  to  the  spot  where  the  humpbacked 
tinker  had  dragged  his  passive  burden.  The  foul, 
green  pond  near  Master  Sancroft's  hostel  reflected  the 
glare  of  torches;  six  of  the  tymbesteres,  leaping  and 
wheeling,  with  doggerel  song  and  discordant  music, 
gave  the  signal  for  the  ordeal  of  the  witch,  — 

"  Lake  or  river,  dyke  or  ditch, 
Water  never  drowns  the  witch. 
Witch  or  wizard  would  ye  know  ?  — 
Sink  or  swim,  is  ay  or  no. 
Lift  her,  swing  her,  once  and  twice, 

Lift  her,  swing  her  o'er  the  brim  — 
Lille  —  lera  —  twice  and  thrice  — 
Ha!  ha!  mother,  sink  or  swim  !  " 

And  while  the  last  line  was  chanted,  amidst  the  full 
jollity  of  laughter  and  clamor,  and  clattering  timbrels, 
there  was  a  splash  in  the  sullen  water;  the  green  slough 
on  the  surface  parted  with  an  oozing  gurgle,  and  then 
came  a  dead  silence. 

"  A  murrain  on  the  hag!  —  she  does  not  even  strug- 
gle!"  said,  at  last,  the  humpbacked  tinker. 

"No,  no!  she  cares  not  for  water,  —  try  fire!  Out 
with  her!  out!"  cried  Red   Grisell. 

"  Aroint  her!  she  is  sullen  !  "  said  the  tinker,  as  his 
lean  fingers  clutched  up  the  dead  body,  and  let  it  fall 
upon  the  margin. 

"  Dead !  "  said  the  baker,  shuddering ;  "  we  have  done 
wrong,  —  I  told  ye  so !  She  dealt  with  me  many  a 
year.  Poor  Madge!  Right's  right.  She  was  no 
witch !  " 

"But  that  was  the  only  way  to  try  it,"  said  the  hump- 
backed tinker;  "and  if  she  was  not  a  witch,  why  did 
she  look  like  one?  —  I  cannot  abide  ugly  folks." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         189 

The  bystanders  shook  their  heads.  But  whatever 
their  remorse,  it  was  diverted  by  a  double  sound:  first, 
a  loud  hurrah  from  some  of  the  mob  who  had  loitered 
for  pillage,  and  who  now  emerged  from  Adam's  house, 
following  two  men,  who,  preceded  by  the  terrible  Graul, 
dancing  before  them,  and  tossing  aloft  her  timbrel,  bore 
in  triumph  the  captured  Eureka;  and,  secondly,  the 
blast  of  a  clarion  at  the  distance,  while  up  the  street 
marched  —  horse  and  foot,  with  pike  and  banner  —  a 
goodly  troop.  The  Lord  Hastings  in  person  led  a  royal 
force,  by  a  night  march,  against  a  fresh  outbreak  of  the 
rebels,  not  ten  miles  from  the  city,  under  Sir  Geoffrey 
Gates,  who  had  been  lately  arrested  by  the  Lord  Howard 
at  Southampton, — escaped,  collected  a  disorderly  body 
of  such  restless  men  as  are  always  disposed  to  take  part 
in  civil  commotion,  and  now  menaced  London  itself. 
At  the  sound  of  the  clarion  the  valiant  mob  dispersed 
in  all  directions,  for  even  at  that  day  mobs  had  an 
instinct  of  terror  at  the  approach  of  the  military,  and 
a  quick  reaction  from  outrage  to  the  fear  of  retaliation. 

But,  at  the  sound  of  martial  music,  the  tymbesteres 
silenced  their  own  instruments,  and,  instead  of  flying, 
they  darted  through  the  crowd,  each  to  seek  the  other, 
and  unite  as  for  counsel.  Graul,  pointing  to  Mr.  San- 
croft's  hostelry,  whispered  the  bearers  of  the  Eureka  to 
seek  refuge  there  for  the  present,  and  to  bear  their 
trophy  with  the  dawn  to  Friar  Bungey,  at  the  Tower; 
and  then,  gliding  nimbly  through  the  fugitive  rioters, 
sprang  into  the  centre  of  the  circle  formed  by  her 
companions. 

"  Ye  scent  the  coming  battle."  said  the  archtymbestere. 

"Ay  —  ay  —  ay  !  "  answered  the  sisterhood. 

"  But  we  have  gone  miles  since  noon,  —  I  am  faint  and 
weary  !  "  said  one  amongst  them. 


190  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

Eed  Grisell,  the  youngest  of  the  hand,  struck  her 
comrade  on  the  cheek,  "  Faint  and  weary,  ronion,  with 
blood  and  booty  in  the  wind  !  " 

The  tymbesteres  smiled  grimly  on  their  young  sister; 
but  the  leader  whispered  "  Hush !  "  and  they  stood  for 
a  second  or  two  with  outstretched  throats  —  with  dilated 
nostrils,  with  pent  breath  —  listening  to  the  clarion,  and 
the  hoofs,  and  the  rattling  armor; — .the  human  vultures 
foretasting  their  feast  of  carnage ;  then,  obedient  to  a 
sign  from  their  chief tainess,  they  crept  lightly  and 
rapidly  into  the  mouth  of  a  neighboring  alley,  where 
they  cowered  by  the  squalid  huts,  concealed.  The 
troop  passed  on,  —  a  gallant  and  serried  band :  horse 
and  foot,  about  fifteen  hundred  men.  As  they  filed 
up  the  thoroughfare,  and  the  tramp  of  the  last  soldiers 
fell  hollow  on  the  starlit  ground,  the  tymbesteres  stole 
from  their  retreat,  and,  at  the  distance  of  some  few 
hundred  yards,  followed  the  procession,  with  long, 
silent,  stealthy  strides, — as  the  meaner  beasts,  in  the 
instinct  of  hungry  cunning,  follow  the  Hon  for  the 
garbage  of  his  prey. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         191 


CHAPTEE  V. 

The  Fugitives  are  Captured  —  The  Tymbesteres  Reappear  — 
Moonlight  on  the  Revel  of  the  Living —  Moonlight  on  the 
Slumber  of  the  Dead. 

The  father  and  child  made  their  resting-place  under  the 
giant  oak.  They  knew  not  whither  to  fly  for  refuge,  — 
the  day  and  the  night  had  become  the  same  to  them :  the 
night  menaced  with  robbers,  the  day  with  the  mob.  If 
return  to  their  houie  was  forbidden,  where  in  the  wide 
world  a  shelter  for  the  would-be  world-improver '{  Yet 
they  despaired  not,  their  hearts  failed  them  not.  The 
majestic  splendor  of  the  night,  as  it  deepened  in  its 
solemn  calm, — as  the  shadows  of  the  windless  trees 
fell  larger  and  sharper  upon  the  silvery  earth,  as  the 
skies  grew  mellower  and  more  luminous  in  the  strength- 
ening starlight,  —  inspired  them  with  the  serenity  of 
faith;  for  night,  to  the  earnest  soul,  opens  the  bible  of 
the  universe,  and  on  the  leaves  of  Heaven  is  written, 
"  God  is  everywhere  !  " 

Their  hands  were  clasped,  each  in  each,  —  their  pale 
faces  were  upturned;  they  spoke  not,  neither  were  they 
conscious  that  they  prayed,  but  their  silence  was  thought, 
and  the  thought  was  worship. 

Amidst  the  grief  and  solitude  of  the  pure,  there  comes, 
at  times,  a  strange  and  rapt  serenity  —  a  sleep-awake  — 
over  which  the  instinct  of  life  beyond  the  grave  glides 
like  a  noiseless  dream ;  and  ever  that  heaven  that  the 
soul   yearns  for   is   colored  by  the   fancies  of  the  fond 


192  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

human   heart,  —  each   fashioning  the    ahove   from   the 
desires  unsatisfied  below. 

"  There, "  thought  the  musing  maiden,  "  cruelty  and 
strife  shall  cease;  there,  vanish  the  harsh  differences 
of  life;  there,  those  whom  we  have  loved  and  lost  are 
found,  and  through  the  Son,  who  tasted  of  mortal  sorrow, 
we  are  raised  to  the  home  of  the  Eternal  Father !  " 

"And  there,"  thought  the  aspiring  sage,  "the  mind, 
dungeoned  and  chained  below,  rushes  free  into  the 
realms  of  space;  there,  from  every  mystery  falls  the 
veil;  there,  the  Omniscient  smiles  on  those  who, 
through  the  darkness  of  life,  have  fed  that  lamp,  the 
soul;  there,  Thought,  but  the  seed  on  earth,  bursts 
into  the  flower,   and  ripens  to  the  fruit !  " 

And  on  the  several  hope  of  both  maid  and  sage  the 
eyes  of  the  angel  stars  smiled  with  a  common  promise. 

At  last,  insensibly,  and  while  still  musing,  so  that 
slumber  but  continued  the  revery  into  visions,  father 
and  daughter  slept. 

The  night  passed  away;  the  dawn  came  slow  and 
gray ;  the  antlers  of  the  deer  stirred  above  the  fern ;  the 
song  of  the  nightingale  was  hushed;  and  just  as  the 
morning  star  waned  back,  while  the  reddening  east 
announced  the  sun,  and  labor  and  trouble  resumed 
their  realm  of  day,  a  fierce  band  halted  before  those 
sleeping  forms. 

These  men  had  been  Lancastrian  soldiers,  and, 
reduced  to  plunder  for  a  living,  had,  under  Sir 
Geoffrey  Gates,  formed  the  most  stalwart  part  of  the 
wild  disorderly  force  whom  Hilyard  and  Coniers  had 
led  to  Olney.  They  had  heard  of  the  new  outbreak, 
headed  by  their  ancient  captain,  Sir  Geoffrey  (who 
was  supposed  to  have  been  instigated  to  his  revolt  by 
the  gold  and  promises  of  the  Lancastrian  chiefs),   and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         193 

were  on  their  way  to  join  the  rehels;  hut  as  war  for 
them  was  but  the  name  for  booty,  they  felt  the  wonted 
instinct  of  the  robber,  when  they  caught  sight  of  the 
old  man  and  the  fair  maid. 

Both  Adam  and  his  daughter  wore,  unhappily,  the 
dresses  in  which  they  had  left  the  court,  and  Sibyll's 
especially  was  that  which  seemed  to  betoken  a  certain 
rank  and  station. 

"  Awake,  —  rouse  ye !  "  said  the  captain  of  the  band, 
roughly  shaking  the  arm  which  encircled  Sibyll's  slen- 
der waist.  Adam  started,  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw 
himself  begirt  by  figures  in  rusty  armor,  with  savage 
faces  peering  under  their  steel  sallets. 

"  How  came  ye  hither  ?  Yon  oak  drops  strange 
acorns,"  quoth  the  chief. 

"  Valiant  sir!  "  replied  Adam,  still  seated,  and  draw- 
ing his  gown  instinctively  over  Sibyll's  face,  which 
nestled  on  his  bosom,  in  slumber  so  deep  and  heavy, 
that  the  gruff  voice  had  not  broken  it,  —  "valiant  sir! 
we  are  forlorn  and  houseless :  an  old  man  and  a  simple 
girl.  Some  evil-minded  persons  invaded  our  home;  we 
fled  in  the  night,  and  —  " 

"  Invaded  your  house  !  ha,  it  is  clear,"  said  the  chief. 
"We  know  the  rest." 

At  this  moment  Sibyll  woke,  and  starting  to  her  feet 
in  astonishment  and  terror  at  the  sight  on  which  her 
eyes  opened,  her  extreme  beauty  made  a  sensible  effect 
upon  the  bravoes. 

"Do  not  be  daunted,  young  demoiselle,"  said  the 
captain,  with  an  air  almost  respectful, — "it  is  neces- 
sary thou  and  Sir  John  should  follow  us,  but  we  will 
treat  you  well,  and  consult  later  on  the  ransom  ye  will 
pay  us.  Jock,  discharge  the  young  sumpter-mule ;  put 
its  load  on  the  black  one.     We  have  no  better  equip- 

VOL.  II.  —  13 


194         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

ment  for  thee,  lady;  but  the  first  haquenee  we  rind 
shall  replace  the  mule,  and  meanwhile  my  knaves  will 
heap  their  cloaks  for  a  pillion." 

"  But  what  mean  you?  —  you  mistake  us!  "  exclaimed 
Sibyll  —  "  we  are  poor;  we  cannot  ransom  ourselves." 

"Poor!  —  tut!"  said  the  captain,  pointing  signifi- 
cantly to  the  costly  robe  of  the  maiden, — "  moreover, 
his  worship's  wealth  is  well  known.  Mount  in  haste, 
—  we  are  pressed. " 

And  without  heeding  the  expostulations  of  Sibyll 
and  the  poor  scholar,  the  rebel  put  his  troop  into 
motion,  and  marched  himself  at  their  head,  with  his 
lieutenant. 

Sibyll  found  the  subalterns  sterner  than  their  chief; 
for  as  Warner  offered  to  resist,  one  of  them  lifted  his 
gisarme,  with  a  frightful  oath,  and  Sibyll  was  the  first 
to  persuade  her  father  to  submit.  She  mildly,  however, 
rejected  the  mule,  and  the  two  captives  walked  together 
in  the  midst  of  the  troop. 

"  Bardie  !  "  said  the  lieutenant,  "I  see  little  help  to 
Sir  Geoffrey  in  these  recruits,  captain!  " 

"  Fool!  "  said  the  chief,  disdainfully,  — "  if  the  rebel- 
lion fail,  these  prisoners  may  save  our  necks.  Will 
Somers  last  night  was  to  break  into  the  house  of  Sir 
John  Bourchier,  for  arms  and  moneys,  of  which  the 
knight  hath  a  goodly  store.  Be  sure,  Sir  John  slinked 
off  in  the  siege,  and  this  is  he  and  his  daughter.  Thou 
knowest  he  is  one  of  the  greatest  knights,  and  the 
richest,  whom  the  Yorkists  boast  of;  —  and  we  may 
name  our  own  price  for  his  ransom." 

"  But  where  lodge  them,  while  we  go  to  the  battle  1 " 

"Ned  Porpustone  hath  a  hostelry  not  far  from  the 
camp,  and  Ned  is  a  good  Lancastrian,  and  a  man  to  be 
trusted. " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         195 

"We  have  not  searched  the  prisoners,"  said  the 
lieutenant;  —  "they  may  have  some  gold  in  their 
pouches." 

"Marry,  when  Will  Somers  storms  a  hive,  little 
time  does  he  leave  to  the  bees  to  fly  away  with  much 
honey!  Nathless,  thou  mayest  search  the  old  knight, 
but  civilly,  and  with  gentle  excuses." 

"  And  the  damsel  1  " 

"  ISTay !  that  were  unmannerly ;  and  the  milder  our 
conduct,  the  larger  the  ransom,  —  when  we  have  great 
folks  to  deal  with." 

The  lieutenant  accordingly  fell  back  to  search  Adam's 
gipsire,  which  contained  only  a  book  and  a  file,  and  then 
rejoined  his  captain,  without  offering  molestation  to 
Sibyll. 

The  mistake  made  by  the  bravo  was  at  least  so  far 
not  wholly  unfortunate,  that  the  notion  of  the  high 
quality  of  the  captives  —  for  Sir  John  Bourchier  was 
indeed  a  person  of  considerable  station  and  importance 
(a  notion  favored  by  the  noble  appearance  of  the 
scholar,  and  the  delicate  and  high-born  air  of  Sibyll)  — 
procured  for  them  all  the  respect  compatible  with  the 
circumstances.  They  had  not  gone  far  before  they 
entered  a  village,  through  which  the  ruffians  marched 
with  the  most  perfect  impunity ;  for  it  was  a  strange 
feature  in  those  civil  wars,  that  the  mass  of  the  popula- 
tion, except  in  the  northern  districts,  remained  perfectly 
supine  and  neutral,  and  as  the  little  band  halted  at  a 
small  inn  to  drink,  the  gossips  of  the  village  collected 
round  them,  with  the  same  kind  of  indolent,  careless 
curiosity,  which  is  now  evinced,  in  some  hamlet,  at  the 
halt  of  a  stage-coach.  Here  the  captain  learned,  how- 
ever, some  intelligence  important  to  his  objects,  —  namely 
the  nigh1>march  of  the  troop  under  Lord  Hastings,  and 


196         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  probability  that  the  conflict  was  already  begun.  "  If 
so, "  muttered  the  rebel,  "  we  can  see  how  the  tide  turns, 
before  we  endanger  ourselves ;  and  at  the  worst,  our 
prisoners  will  bring  something  of  prize-money." 

While  thus  soliloquizing,  he  spied  one  of  those  cum- 
brous vehicles  of  the  day  called  ivhlrlicotes,1  standing 
in  the  yard  of  the  hostelry;  and  seizing  upon  it,  vi  et 
armis,  in  spite  of  all  the  cries  and  protestations  of  the 
unhappy  landlord,  he  ordered  his  captives  to  enter, 
and  recommenced  his  march.  As  the  band  proceeded 
farther  on  their  way,  they  were  joined  by  fresh  troops, 
of  the  same  class  as  themselves,  and  they  pushed  on 
gayly,  till,  about  the  hour  of  eight,  they  halted  before 
the  hostelry  the  captain  had  spoken  of.  It  stood  a 
little  out  of  the  high-road,  not  very  far  from  the  vil- 
lage of  Hadley,  and  the  heath  or  chase  of  Gladsmoor, 
on  which  was  fought,  some  time  afterwards,  the  battle 
of  Barnet.  It  was  a  house  of  good  aspect,  and  con- 
siderable size,  for  it  was  much  frequented  by  all 
caravanserais  and  travellers  from  the  north  to  the 
metropolis.  The  landlord,  at  heart  a  stanch  Lancas- 
trian, who  had  served  in  the  French  Avars,  and  contrived, 
no  one  knew  how,  to  save  moneys  in  the  course  of  an 
adventurous  life,  gave  to  his  hostelry  the  appellation 
and  sign  of  the  Talbot,  in  memory  of  the  old  hero  of 
that  name ;  and,  hiring  a  tract  of  land,  joined  the  occu- 
pation of  a  farmer  to  the  dignity  of  a  host.  The  house, 
which  was  built  round  a  spacious  quadrangle,  repre- 
sented   the    double    character    of    its    owner,    one    side 

1  Whirlicotes  were  iu  use  from  a  very  early  period,  but  only 
among  the  great,  till,  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  his  queen,  Anne, 
introduced  side-saddles,  when  the  whirlicote  fell  out  of  fashion, 
but  might  be  found  at  different  hostelries  on  the  main  roads,  for 
the  accommodation  of  the  infirm  or  aged. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         197 

being  occupied  by  barns  and  a  considerable  range  of 
stabling,  while  cows,  oxen,  and  ragged  colts,  grouped 
amicably  together,  in  a  space  railed  off  in  the  centre  of 
the  yard.  At  another  side  ran  a  large  wooden  stair- 
case, with  an  open  gallery,  propped  on  wooden  columns, 
conducting  to  numerous  chambers,  after  the  fashion  of 
the  Tabard,  in  Southwark,  immortalized  by  Chaucer. 
Over  the  archway,  on  entrance,  ran  a  labyrinth  of 
sleeping  lofts,  for  foot  passengers  and  muleteers,  and 
the  side  facing  the  entrance  was  nearly  occupied  by  a 
vast  kitchen,  the  common  hall,  and  the  bar,  with  the 
private  parlor  of  the  host,  and  two  or  three  chambers 
in  the  second  story.  The  whirlicote  jolted  and  rattled 
into  the  yard.  Sibyll  and  her  father  were  assisted  out 
of  the  vehicle,  and,  after  a  few  words  interchanged 
with  the  host,  conducted  by  Master  Porpustone  himself 
up  the  spacious  stairs  into  a  chamber,  well  furnished  and 
fresh  littered,  with  repeated  assurances  of  safety,  pro- 
vided they  maintained  silence,  and  attempted  no  escape. 

"  Ye  are  in  time, "  said  Ned  Porpustone  to  the  cap- 
tain,—  "Lord  Hastings  made  proclamation  at  daybreak 
that  lie  gave  the  rebels  two  hours  to  disperse." 

"  Pest !  I  like  not  those  proclamations.  And  the 
fellows  stood  their  ground  1  " 

"No;  for  Sir  Geoffrey,  like  a  wise  soldier,  mended 
the  ground  by  retreating  a  mile  to  the  left,  and  placing 
the  wood  between  the  Yorkists  and  himself.  Hast- 
ings, by  this,  must  have  remarshalled  his  men.  But 
to  pass  the  wood  is  slow  work,  and  Sir  Geoffrey's 
cross-bows  are  no  doubt  doing  damage  in  the  covert. 
Come  in,  while  your  fellows  snatch  a  morsel  without; 
five  minutes  are  not  thrown  away  on  filling  their 
bellies." 

"  Thanks,   Ned,  —  thou  art  a  good  fellow !    and  if  all 


198      the  last  of  the  barons. 

else  fail,  why,  Sir  John's  ransom  shall  pay  the  reckon* 
ing.     Any  news  of  bold  Kobin  ?  " 

"  Ay !  he  has  'scaped  with  a  whole  skin,  and  gone 
back  to  the  north, "  answered  the  host,  leading  the  way 
to  his  parlor,  where  a  flask  of  strong  wine  and  some 
cold  meats  awaited  his  guest.  "  If  Sir  Geoffrey  Gates 
can  beat  off  the  York  troopers,  tell  him,  from  me,  not 
to  venture  to  London,  but  to  fall  back  into  the  marches. 
He  will  be  welcome  there,  I  foreguess;  for  every  north- 
man  is  either  for  "Warwick  or  for  Lancaster:  and  the 
two  must  unite  now,  I  trow." 

"  But  Warwick  is  flown !  "  quoth  the  captain. 

"  Tush  !  he  has  only  flown,  as  the  falcon  flies  when 
he  has  a  heron  to  fight  with,— wheeling  and  soaring. 
Woe  to  the  heron  when  the  falcon  swoops!  But  you 
drink  not !  " 

"  ]S"o ;  I  must  keep  the  head  cool  to-day,  for  Hast- 
ings is  a  perilous  captain.  Thy  fist,  friend !  —  If  I  fall, 
I  leave  you  Sir  John  and  his  girl,  to  wipe  off  old  scores ; 
if  we  beat  off  the  Yorkists,  1  vow  to  our  Lady  of  Wal- 
singham  an  image  of  wax,  of  the  weight  of  myself." 
The  marauder  then  started  up,  and  strode  to  his  men, 
who  were  snatching  a  hasty  meal  on  the  space  before 
the  hostel.  He  paused  a  moment  or  so,  while  his  host 
whispered, — 

"  Hastings  was  here  before  daybreak ;  but  his  men 
only  got  the  sour  beer;  yours  fight  upon  huffcap." 

"  Up,  men !  —  To  your  pikes !  Dress  to  the  right !  " 
thundered  the  captain,  with  a  sufficient  pause  between 
each  sentence.  "  The  York  losels  have  starved  on  stale 
beer,  —  shall  they  beat  huffcap  and  Lancaster?  Frisk 
and  fresh,  —  up  with  the  Antelope  1  banner,  and  long 
live  Henry  VI. !  " 

1  The  antelope  was  one  of  the  Lancastrian  badges.  The  special 
cognizance  of  Henry  VI.  was  two  feathers  in  saltire. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         199 

The  sound  of  the  shout  that  answered  this  harangue 
shook  the  thin  walls  of  the  chamber  in  which  the 
prisoners  were  confined,  and  they  heard  with  joy  the 
departing  tramp  of  the  soldiers.  In  a  short  time,  Master 
Porpustone  himself,  a  corpulent,  burly  fellow,  with  a  face 
by  no  means  unprepossessing,  mounted  to  the  chamber, 
accompanied  by  a  comely  housekeeper,  linked  to  him, 
as  scandal  said,  by  ties  less  irksome  than  Hymen's,  and 
both  bearing  ample  provisions,  with  rich  pigment  and 
lucid  clary,1  which  they  spread  with  great  formality  on 
an  oak  table  before  their  involuntary  guests. 

"  Eat,  your  worship,  eat !  "  cried  mine  host,  heartily. 
"  Eat,  ladybird !  —  nothing  like  eating  to  kill  time  and 
banish  care.  Fortune  of  war,  Sir  John,  fortune  of  war, 
—  never  be  daunted!  Up  to-day, —  down  to-morrow. 
Come  what  may,  —  York  or  Lancaster, —  still  a  rich  man 
always  falls  on  his  legs.  Five  hundred  marks  or  so  to 
the  captain;  a  noble  or  two,  out  of  pure  generosity,  to 
Ned  Porpustone  (I  scorn  extortion),  and  you  and  the 
fair  young  dame  may  breakfast  at  home  to-morrow, 
unless  the  captain  or  his  favorite  lieutenant  is  taken 
prisoner;  and  then,  you  see,  they  will  buy  off  their 
necks  by  letting  you  out  of  the  bag.  Eat,  I  say, — 
eat!  " 

"  Verily, "  said  Adam,  seating  himself  solemnly,  and 
preparing  to  obey,  "  I  confess  I  'm  a  hungered,  and  the 
pasty  hath  a  savory  odor;  but  I  pray  thee  to  tell  me 
why  I  am  called  Sir  John  1  —  Adam  is  my  baptismal 
name." 

"Ha!  ha!  good,  very  good,  your  honor, —  to  be  sure, 
and  your  father's  name  before  you.  We  are  all  sons  of 
Adam,  and  every  son,  I  trow,  has  a  just  right  and  a 
lawful  to  his  father's  name." 

1  Clary  was  wine  clarified. 


200         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

With  that,  followed  by  the  housekeeper,  the  honest 
landlord,  chuckling  heartily,  rolled  his  goodly  bulk  from 
the  chamber,  which  he  carefully  locked. 

"  Comprehendest  thou  yet,  Sibyll  1  " 

"  Yes,  dear  sir  and  father, —  they  mistake  us  for  fugi- 
tives of  mark  and  importance ;  and  when  they  discover 
their  error,  no  doubt  we  shall  go  free.  Courage,  dear 
father!" 

"  Me  seemeth, "  quoth  Adam,  almost  merrily,  as  the 
good  man  filled  his  cup  from  the  wine  flagon,  —  "  me 
seemeth  that,  if  the  mistake  could  continue,  it  would  be 
no  weighty  misfortune,  —  ha  !  ha!  "  —  he  stopped  abruptly 
in  the  unwonted  laughter,  put  down  the  cup, —  his  face 
fell.  "  Ah,  heaven  forgive  me  !  — •  and  the  poor  Eureka 
and  faithful  Madge !  " 

"Oh,  father!  fear  not;  we  are  not  without  protection. 
Lord  Hastings  is  returned  to  London, —  we  will  seek 
him;  he  will  make  our  cruel  neighbors  respect  thee. 
And  Madge,  —  poor  Madge  will  be  so  happy  at  our  re- 
turn, for  they  could  not  harm  her:  a  woman, —  old  and 
alone;  no,  no, —  man  is  not  fierce  enough  for  that!  " 

"  Let  us  so  pray ;  but  thou  eatest  not,  child !  " 

"Anon,  father,  —  anon;  I  am  sick  and  weary.  But, 
nay,  nay,  I  am  better  now,  —  better.  Smile  again, 
father.  I  am  hungered,  too;  yes,  indeed  and  in  sooth, 
yes. —  Ah,  sweet  St.  Mary,  give  me  life  and  strength, 
and  hope  and  patience,  for  his  dear  sake !  " 

The  stirring  events  which  had  within  the  last  few 
weeks  diversified  the  quiet  life  of  the  scholar  had  some- 
what roused  him  from  his  wonted  abstraction,  and  made 
the  aotual  world  a  more  sensible  and  living  thing  than 
it  had  hitherto  seemed  to  his  mind;  but  now,  his  repast 
ended,  the  quiet  of  the  place  (for  the  inn  was  silent  and 
almost  deserted)  with  the  fumes  of  the  wine  —  a  luxury 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAIiOXS.  201 

he  rarely  tasted  —  operated  soothingly  upon  his  thought 
and  fancy,  and  plunged  him  into  those  reveries,  so  dear 
alike  to  poet  and  mathematician.  To  the  thinker,  the 
most  trifling  external  ohject  often  suggests  ideas,  which, 
like  Homer's  chain,  extend,  link  after  link,  from  earth 
to  heaven.  The  sunny  motes,  that  in  a  glancing  column 
came  through  the  lattice,  called  Warner  from  the  real 
day, —  the  day  of  strife  and  hlood,  with  thousands  hard 
hy  driving  each  other  to  the  Hades,  —  and  led  his  schem- 
ing fancy  into  the  ideal  and  abstract  day :  the  theory  of 
light  itself;  and  the  theory  suggested  mechanism,  and 
mechanism  called  up  the  memory  of  his  oracle, —  old 
Roger  Bacon ;  and  that  memory  revived  the  great  friar's 
hints  in  the  Opus  magus,  —  hints  which  outlined  the 
grand  invention  of  the  telescope :  and  so,  as  over  some 
dismal  precipice  a  bird  swings  itself  to  and  fro  upon  the 
airy  bough,  the  schoolman's  mind  played  with  its  quiver- 
ing fancy,  and  folded  its  calm  wings  above  the  verge  of 
terror. 

Occupied  with  her  own  dreams,  Sibyll  respected  those 
of  her  father;  and  so  in  silence,  not  altogether  mourn- 
ful, the  morning  and  the  noon  passed,  and  the  sun  was 
sloping  westward,  when  a  confused  sound  below  called 
Sibyll's  gaze  to  the  lattice,  which  looked  over  the  balus- 
trade of  the  staircase,  into  the  vast  yard.  She  saw 
several  armed  men  —  their  harness  hewed  and  battered 
■ —  quaffing  ale  or  wine  in  haste,  and  heard  one  of  them 
say  to  the  landlord, — 

"All  is  lost!  Sir  Geoffrey  Gates  still  holds  out,  but 
it  is  butcher  work.  The  troops  of  Lord  Hastings  gather 
round  him  as  a  net  round  a  fish !  " 

Hastings  !  —  that  name!  —  he  was  at  hand!  —  he  was 
near !  —  they  would  be  saved !  Sibyll's  heart  beat 
loudly. 


202         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

"  And  the  captain  1  "  asked  Porpustone. 

"  Alive,  when  I  last  saw  him ;  hut  we  must  he  off. 
In  another  hour  all  will  he  hurry  and  skurry,  flight  and 
chase. " 

At  this  moment  from  one  of  the  barns  there  emerged, 
one  by  one,  the  female  vultures  of  the  battle.  The 
tymbesteres,  who  had  tramped  all  night  to  the  spot,  had 
slept  off  their  fatigue  during  the  day,  and  appeared  on 
the  scene  as  the  neighboring  strife  waxed  low,  and  the 
dead  and  the  dying  began  to  cumber  the  gory  ground. 
Graul  Skellet,  tossing  up  her  timbrel,  darted  to  the 
fugitives  and  grinned  a  ghastly  grin  when  she  heard  the 
news, —  for  the  tymbesteres  were  all  loyal  to  a  king  who 
loved  women,  and  who  had  a  wink  and  a  jest  for  every 
tramping  wench!  The  troopers  tarried  not,  however, 
for  further  converse,  but  having  satisfied  their  thirst, 
hurried  and  clattered  from  the  yard.  At  the  sight  of 
the  ominous  tymbesteres  Sibyll  had  drawn  back,  with- 
out daring  to  close  the  lattice  she  had  opened ;  and  the 
women,  seating  themselves  on  a  bench,  began  sleeking 
their  long  hair  and  smoothing  their  garments  from  the 
scraps  of  straw  and  litter  which  betokened  the  nature  of 
their  resting-place. 

"Ho,  girls!"  said  the  fat  landlord,  "ye  will  pay  me 
for  board  and  bed,  I  trust,  by  a  show  of  your  craft.  I 
have  two  right  worshipful  lodgers  up  yonder,  whose 
lattice  looks  on  the  yard,  and  whom  ye  may  serve  to 
divert." 

Sibyll  trembled,  and  crept  to  her  father's  side. 

"  And, "  continued  the  landlord,  "  if  they  like  the  clash 
of  your  musicals,  it  may  bring  ye  a  groat  or  so,  to  help 
ye  on  your  journey.  By  the  way,  —  whither  wend  ye, 
wenches  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         203 

"  To  a  bonny,  jolly  fair, "  answered  the  sinister  voice 
of  Graul,  — 

"  Where  a  mighty  showman  dyes 

The  greenery  into  red  ; 
Where,  presto !  at  the  word 

Lies  his  Fool  without  a  head,  — 
Where  he  gathers  in  the  crowd 

To  the  trumpet  and  the  drmm 
With  a  jingle  and  a  tinkle, 

Graul's  merry  lassies  come !  " 

As  the  two  closing  lines  were  caught  by  the  rest  of 
the  t}rmbesteres,  striking  their  timbrels,  the  crew  formed 
themselves  into  a  semicircle,  and  commenced  their  dance. 
Their  movements,  though  wanton  and  fantastic,  were 
not  without  a  certain  wild  grace ;  and  the  address 
with  which,  from  time  to  time,  they  cast  up  their 
instruments  and  caught  them  in  descending,  — joined 
to  the  surprising  agility  with  which,  in  the  evolutions 
of  the  dance,  one  seemed  now  to  chase,  now  to  fly  from, 
the  other;  darting  to  and  fro  through  the  ranks  of  her 
companions,  winding  and  wheeling :  the  chain  now 
seemingly  broken  in  disorder,  now  united  link  to  link, 
as  the  whole  force  of  the  instruments  clashed  in 
chorus,  —  made  an  exhibition  inexpressibly  attractive  to 
the  vulgar. 

The  tymbesteres,  however,  as  may  well  be  supposed, 
failed  to  draw  Sibyll  or  Warner  to  the  window ;  and  they 
exchanged  glances  of  spite  and  disappointment. 

"Marry,"  quoth  the  landlord,  after  a  hearty  laugh  at 
the  diversion,  "  I  do  wrong  to  be  so  gay,  when  so  many 
good  friends  perhaps  are  lying  stark  and  cold.  But  what 
then  1     Life  is  short,  —  laugh  while  we  can !  " 

"  Hist!  "  whispered  his  housekeeper;  "  art  wode,  Ned? 
Wouldst  thou   have  it  discovered  that  thou  hast   such 


204  THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS. 

quality  birds  in  the  cage  —  noble  Yorkists — at  the  very 
time  when  Lord  Hastings  himself  may  be  riding  this  way 
after  the  victory  1  " 

"Always  right,  Meg,  —  and  I'm  an  ass!"  answered 
the  host,  in  the  same  undertone.  "  But  my  good  nature 
will  be  the  death  of  me  some  day.  Poor  gentlefolks, 
they  must  be  unked  dull,  yonder !  " 

"  If  the  Yorkists  come  hither,  —  which  we  shall  soon 
know  by  the  scouts,  — we  must  shift  Sir  John  and 
the  damsel  to  the  back  of  the  house,  over  thy  taproom." 

"  Manage  it  as  thou  wilt,  Meg, —  but,  thou  seest,  they 
keep  quiet  and  snug.  Ho,  ho,  ho!  that  tall  tymbestere 
is  supple  enough  to  make  an  owl  hold  his  sides  with 
laughing.  Ah !  hollo,  there,  tymbesteres,  —  ribaudes, 
tramps,  the  devil's  chickens,  —  down,  down !  " 

The  host  was  too  late  in  his  order.  With  a  sudden 
spring,  Graul,  who  had  long  fixed  her  eye  on  the  open 
lattice  of  the  prisoners,  had  wreathed  herself  round  one 
of  the  pillars  that  supported  the  stairs,  swung  lightly 
over  the  balustrade,  —  and,  with  a  faint  shriek,  the 
startled  Sibyll  beheld  the  tymbestere's  hard,  fierce  eyes, 
glaring  upon  her  through  the  lattice,  as  her  long  arm 
extended  the  timbrel  for  largess.  But  no  sooner  had 
Sibyll  raised  her  face  than  she  was  recognized. 

"  Ho!  the  wizard  and  the  wizard's  daughter!  Ho!  the 
girl  who  glamours  lords,  and  wears  sarcenet  and  lawn  ! 
Ho !  the  nigromancer  who  starves  the  poor !  " 

At  the  sound  of  their  leader's  cry,  up  sprang,  up 
climbed  the  hellish  sisters!  One  after  the  other,  they 
darted  through  the  lattice  into  the  chamber. 

"  The  ronions !  the  foul  fiend  has  distraught  them  !  " 
groaned  the  landlord,  motionless  with  astonishment. 
But  the  more  active  Meg,  calling  to  the  varlets  and 
scullions,  whom  the  tymbesteres  had  collected  in  the  yard, 


THE   LAST   OF  THE    BARONS.  205 

to  follow  her,  bounded  up  the  stairs,  unlocked  the  door, 
and  arrived  in  time  to  throw  herself  between  the  captives 
and  the  harpies,  whom  Sibyll's  ricli  super-tunic  and 
Adam's  costly  gown  had  inflamed  into  all  the  rage  of 
appropriation. 

"  What  mean  ye,  wretches  ? "  cried  the  bold  Meg, 
purple  with  anger.  "  Do  ye  come  for  this  into  honest 
folks'  hostelries,  to  rob  their  guests  in  broad  day,  — 
noble  guests,  guests  of  mark!  Oh,  Sir  John  !  Sir  John! 
what  will  ye  think  of  us  1  " 

"Oh,  Sir  John!  Sir  John!"  groaned  the  landlord, 
who  had  now  moved  his  slow  bulk  into  the  room. 
"  They  shall  be  scourged,  Sir  John  !  They  shall  be  put 
in  the  stocks ;  they  shall  be  brent  with  hot  iron,  they  —  " 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  interrupted  the  terrible  Graul :  "  guests  of 
mark,  —  noble  guests,  trow  ye !  Adam  Warner,  the 
wizard,  and  his  daughter,  whom  we  drove  last  night  from 
their  den,  as  many  a  time,  sisters,  and  many,  we  have 
driven  the  rats  from  the  charnel  and  cave." 

"  Wizard  !  Adam !  Blood  of  my  life  !  "  stammered  the 
landlord,  — "  is  his  name  Adam,  after  all?" 

"  My  name  is  Adam  Warner,"  said  the  old  man,  with 
dignity ;  "  no  wizard,  —  a  humble  scholar,  and  a  poor 
gentleman,  who  has  injured  no  one.  Wherefore,  women, 
—  if  women  ye  are,  —  would  ye  injure  mine  and  me  ?  " 

"  Faugh, —  wizard!  "  returned  Graul,  folding  her  arms. 
"  Didst  thou  not  send  thy  spawn,  yonder,  to  spoil  our 
mart  with  her  gittern  ?  Hast  thou  not  taught  her  the 
spells  to  win  love  from  the  noble  and  young?  Ho,  how 
daintily  the  young  witch  robes  herself !  Ho  !  laces  and 
satins,  and  we  shiver  with  the  cold,  and  parch  with  the 
heat  —  and  —  doff  thy  tunic,  minion  !  " 

And  Graul 's  fierce  gripe  was  on  the  robe,  when  the 
landlord  interposed  his  huge  arm,  and  held  her  at  bay. 


20G         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAHONS. 

"  Softly,  my  sucking  dove,  softly !  Clear  the  room, 
and  be  off  !  " 

"  Look  to  thyself,  man.  If  thou  harborest  a  wizard, 
against  law, —  a  wizard  whom  King  Edward  hath  given 
up  to  the  people,  —  look  to  thy  barns,  they  shall  burn ; 
look  to  thy  cattle,  —  they  shall  rot ;  look  to  thy  secrets, 
—  they  shall  be  told.  Lancastrian,  thou  shalt  hang ! 
We  go,  we  go!  We  have  friends  among  the  mailed 
men  of  York.  We  go,  —  we  will  return!  Woe  to  thee, 
if  thou  harborest  the  wizard  and  the  succuba !  " 

With  that,  Graul  moved  slowly  to  the  door.  Host 
and  housekeeper,  varlet,  groom,  and  scullion,  made  way 
for  her,  in  terror;  and  still,  as  she  moved,  she  kept 
her  eyes  on  Sibyll,  till  her  sisters,  following  in  succes- 
sive file,  shut  out  the  hideous  aspect;  and  Meg,  ordering 
away  her  gaping  train,  closed  the  door. 

The  host  and  the  housekeeper  then  gazed  gravely  at 
each  other.  Sibyll  lay  in  her  father's  arms  breathing 
hard  and  convulsively.  The  old  man's  face  bent  over 
her  in  silence. 

Meg  drew  aside  her  master.  "  You  must  rid  the 
house  at  once  of  these  folks.  I  have  heard  talk  of  yon 
tymbesteres;  they  are  awesome  in  spite  and  malice. 
Every  man  to  himself!  " 

"  But  the  poor  old  gentleman,  so  mild,  —  and  the 
maid,  so  winsome!  " 

The  last  remark  did  not  over-please  the  comely  Meg. 
She  advanced  at  once  to  Adam,  and  said,  shortly, — 

"  Master,  whether  wizard  or  not,  is  no  affair  of  a  poor 
landlord,  whose  house  is  open  to  all;  but  ye  have  had 
food  and  wine:  please  to  pay  the  reckoning,  and  God 
speed  ye, —  ye  are  free  to  depart." 

"We  can  pay  you,  mistress!"  exclaimed  Sibyll, 
springing  up.     "We  have  moneys  yet.      Here,    here!" 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         207 

and  she  took  from  her  gipsire  the  broad  pieces  which 
poor  Madge's  precaution  had  placed  therein,  and  which 
the  bravoes  had  fortunately  spared. 

The  sight  of  the  gold  somewhat  softened  the  house- 
wife. — "  Lord  Hastings  is  known  to  us, "  continued 
Sibyll,  perceiving  the  impression  she  had  made ;  "  suffer 
us  to  rest  here  till  he  pass  this  way,  and  ye  will  find 
yourselves  repaid  for  the  kindness. " 

"By  my  troth,"  said  the  landlord,  "ye  are  most 
welcome  to  all  my  poor  house  containeth;  and  as  for 
these  tymbesteres,  I  value  them  not  a  straw.  No  one 
can  say  Ned  Porpustone  is  an  ill  man  or  inhospitable. 
Whoever  can  pay  reasonably,  is  sure  of  good  wine  and 
civility  at  the  Talbot. " 

With  these  and  many  similar  protestations  and  as- 
surances, which  were  less  heartily  re-echoed  by  the 
housewife,  the  landlord  begged  to  conduct  them  to  an 
apartment  not  so  liable  to  molestation;  and  after  hav- 
ing led  them  down  the  principal  stairs,  through  the  bar, 
and  thence  up  a  narrow  flight  of  steps,  deposited  them 
in  a  chamber  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  lighted, 
a  sconce  therein, —  for  it  was  now  near  the  twilight. 
He  then  insisted  on  seeing  after  their  evening  meal, 
and  vanished  with  his  assistant.  The  worthy  pair  were 
now  of  the  same  mind:  for  guests  known  to  Lord  Hast- 
ings, it  was  worth  braving  the  threats  of  the  tymbesteres; 
especially  since  Lord  Hastings,  it  seems,  had  just  beaten 
the  Lancastrians. 

But,  alas !  while  the  active  Meg  was  busy  on  the 
hippocras,  and  the  worthy  landlord  was  inspecting  the 
savory  operations  of  the  kitchen,  a  vast  uproar  was 
heard  without.  A  troop  of  disorderly  Yorkist  soldiers, 
who  had  been  employed  in  dispersing  the  flying  rebels, 
rushed   helter-skelter   into   the   house,  and   poured   into 


208         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  kitchen,  bearing  with  them  the  detested  tymbes- 
teres,  who  had  encountered  them  on  their  way.  Among 
these  soldiers  were  those  who  had  congregated  at  Master 
Sancroft's  the  day  before,  and  they  were  well  prepared 
to  support  the  cause  of  their  griesly  paramours.  Lord 
Hastings  himself  had  retired  for  the  night  to  a  farm- 
house nearer  the  field  of  battle  than  the  hostel ;  and  as 
in  those  days  discipline  was  lax  enough  after  a  victory, 
the  soldiers  had  a  right  to  license.  Master  Porpustone 
found  himself  completely  at  the  mercy  of  these  brawling 
customers,  the  more  rude  and  disorderly  from  the  re- 
membrance of  the  sour  beer  in  the  morning,  and  Graul 
Skellet's  assurances  that  Master  Porpustone  was  a  malig- 
nant Lancastrian.  They  laid  hands  on  all  the  provisions 
in  the  house,  tore  the  meats  from  the  spit,  devouring 
them  half  raw;  set  the  casks  running  over  the  floors; 
and  while  they  swilled  and  swore,  and  filled  the  place 
with  the  uproar  of  a  hell  broke  loose,  Graul  Skellet, 
whom  the  lust  for  the  rich  garments  of  Sibyll  still  fired 
and  stung,  led  her  followers  up  the  stairs  towards  the 
deserted  chamber.  Mine  host  perceived,  but  did  not 
dare  openly  to  resist  the  foray;  but  as  he  was  really  a 
good-natured  knave,  and  as,  moreover,  he  feared  ill  con- 
sequences might  ensue,  if  any  friends  of  Lord  Hastings 
were  spoiled,  outraged  —  nay,  peradventure,  murdered 
—  in  his  house,  he  resolved,  at  all  events,  to  assist  the 
escape  of  his  guests.  Seeing  the  ground  thus  clear  of 
the  tymbesteres,  he  therefore  stole  from  the  riotous 
scene,  crept  up  the  back  stairs,  gained  the  chamber  to 
which  he  had  so  happily  removed  his  persecuted  lodgers, 
and  making  them,  in  a  few  words,  sensible  that  he  was 
no  longer  able  to  protect  them,  and  that  the  tymbesteres 
were  now  returned  with  an  armed  force  to  back  their 
malice,  conducted  them  safely  to  a  wide  casement  only 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         209 

some  three  or  four  feet  from  the  soil  of  the  solitary 
garden,  and  hade  them  escape  and  save  themselves. 

"  The  farm, "  he  whispered,  "  where  they  say  my 
Lord  Hastings  is  quartered,  is  scarcely  a  mile  and  a  half 
away;  pass  the  garden  wicket,  leave  Gladsmore  Chase 
to  the  left  hand,  take  the  path  to  the  right,  through  the 
wood,  —  and  you  will  see  its  roof  among  the  apple- 
blossoms.  Our  Lady  protect  you !  and  say  a  word  to 
my  lord  on  behalf  of  poor  Ned. " 

Scarce  had  he  seen  his  guests  descend  into  the  garden, 
before  he  heard  the  yell  of  the  tymbesteres,  in  the  op- 
posite part  of  the  house,  as  the}'  ran  from  room  to  room 
after  their  prey.  He  hastened  to  regain  the  kitchen; 
and  presently  the  tymbesteres,  breathless  and  panting, 
rushed  in,  and  demanded  their  victims. 

"  Marry, "  quoth  the  landlord,  with  the  self-possession 
of  a  cunning  old  soldier,  —  "think  ye  I  cumbered  my 
house  with  such  cattle,  after  pretty  lassies  like  you  had 
given  me  the  inkling  of  what  they  were  1  No  wizard 
shall  fly  away  with  the  sign  of  the  Talbot,  if  I  can 
help  it.  They  skulked  off,  I  can  promise  ye,  and  did 
not  even  mount  a  couple  of  broomsticks  which  I  hand- 
somely offered  for  their  ride  up  to  London." 

"  Thunder  and  bombards !  "  cried  a  trooper,  already 
half-drunk,  and  seizing  Graul  in  his  iron  arms ;  "  put 
the  conjurer  out  of  thine  head  now,  and  buss  me,  Graul, 
—  buss  me  !  " 

Then  the  riot  became  hideous;  the  soldiers,  following 
their  comrade's  example,  embraced  the  grim  glee-women, 
tearing  and  hauling  them  to  and  fro,  one  from  the  other, 
round  and  round,  dancing,  hallooing,  chanting,  howling, 
by  the  blaze  of  a  mighty  fire, —  many  a  rough  face  and 
hard  hand  smeared  with  blood  still  wet,  communicated 
the  stain  to  the  cheeks  and  garb  of  those  foul  feres,  and 
vor,.  it.  — 14 


210         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  whole  revel  becoming  so  unutterably  horrible  and 
ghastly,  that  even  the  veteran  landlord  fled  from  the 
spot,  trembling  and  crossing  himself.  —  And  so,  stream- 
ing athwart  the  lattice,  and  silvering  over  that  fearful 
merry-making,  rose  the  moon! 

But  when  fatigue  and  drunkenness  had  done  their 
work,  and  the  soldiers  fell  one  over  the  other  upon  the 
floor,  the  tables,  the  benches,  into  the  heavy  sleep  of 
riot,  Graul  suddenly  rose  from  amidst  the  huddled 
bodies,  and  then,  silently  as  ghouls  from  a  burial-ground, 
her  sisters  emerged  also  from  their  resting-places  beside 
the  sleepers.  The  dying  light  of  the  fire  contended  but 
feebly  with  the  livid  rays  of  the  moon,  and  played 
fantastically  over  the  gleaming  robes  of  the  tymbesteres. 
They  stood  erect  for  a  moment,  listening,  Graul  with 
her  finger  on  her  lips;  then  they  glided  to  the  door, 
opened  and  reclosed  it, —  darted  across  the  yard,  scar- 
ing the  beasts  that  slept  there;  the  watch-dog  barked, 
but  drew  back,  bristling  and  showing  his  fangs,  as  Red 
Grisell,  undaunted,  pointed  her  knife,  and  Graul  flung 
him  a  red  peace-sop  of  meat.  They  launched  themselves 
through  the  open  entrance,  gained  the  space  beyond,  and 
scoured  away  to  the  battle-field. 

Meanwhile  Sibyll  and  her  father  were  still  under  the 
canopy  of  heaven.  They  had  scarcely  passed  the  gar- 
den and  entered  the  fields,  when  they  saw  horsemen 
riding  to  and  fro  in  all  directions.  Sir  Geoffrey  Gates, 
the  rebel  leader,  had  escaped ;  the  reward  of  three  hun- 
dred marks  was  set  on  his  head,  and  the  riders  were  in 
search  of  the  fugitive.  The  human  form  itself  had  be- 
come a  terror  to  the  hunted  outcasts :  they  crept  under  a 
thick  hedge  till  the  horsemen  had  disappeared,  and  then 
resumed  their  way.  They  gained  the  wood ;  but  there, 
again,  they  halted  at  the  sound  of  voices,  and  withdrew 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         211 

themselves  under  covert  of  some  entangled  and  trampled 
bushes.  This  time  it  was  but  a  party  of  peasants,  whom 
curiosity  had  led  to  see  the  field  of  battle,  and  who  were 
now  returning  home.  Peasants  and  soldiers  both  were 
human,  and  therefore  to  be  shunned  by  those  whom  the 
dge  itself  put  out  of  the  pale  of  law.  At  last,  the  party 
also  left  the  path  free ;  and  now  it  was  full  night.  They 
pursued  their  way,  they  cleared  the  wood,  —  before  them ' 
lay  the  field  of  battle ;  and  a  deeper  silence  seemed  to  fall 
over  the  world!  The  first  stars  bad  risen,  but  not  yet 
the  moon.  The  gleam  of  armor  from  prostrate  bodies, 
which  it  had  mailed  in  vain,  reflected  the  quiet  rays ; 
here  and  there  flickered  watchfires,  where  sentinels  were 
set,  but  they  were  scattered  and  remote.  The  outcasts 
paused  and  shuddered,  but  there  seemed  no  holier  way 
for  their  feet;  and  the  roof  of  the  farmer's  homestead 
slept  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  field,  amidst  white 
orchard  blossoms,  whitened  still  more  by  the  stars. 
They  went  on,  hand  in  hand, —  the  dead,  after  all,  were 
less  terrible  than  the  living.  Sometimes  a  stern,  up- 
turned face,  distorted  by  the  last  violent  agony,  the  eyes 
unclosed  and  glazed,  encountered  them  with  its  stony 
stare;  but  the  weapon  was  powerless  in  the  stiff  hand, 
the  menace  and  the  insult  came  not  from  the  hueless  lips, 
—  persecution  reposed,  at  last,  in  the  lap  of  slaughter. 
They  had  gone  midway  through  the  field,  when  they 
heard,  from  a  spot  where  the  corpses  lay  thickest  piled, 
a  faint  voice  calling  upon  God  for  pardon ;  and ,  suddenly, 
it  was  answered  by  a  tone  of  fiercer  agony, —  that  did  not 
pray,  but  curse. 

By   a   common  impulse,   the  gentle  wanderers  moved 
silently  to  the  spot. 

The  sufferer,  in  prayer,  was  a  youth  scarcely  passed 
from  boyhood:  his  helm  had  been  cloven,  his  head  was 


212         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

bare,  and  his  long,  light  hair,  clotted  with  gore,  fell 
over  his  shoulders.  Beside  him  lay  a  strong-built,  pow- 
erful form,  which  writhed  in  torture,  pierced  under  the 
arm  by  a  Yorkist  arrow,  and  the  shaft  still  projected  from 
the  wound, —  and  the  man's  curse  answered  the  boy's 
prayer. 

"  Peace  to  thy  parting  soul ,  brother !  "  said  Warner, 
bending  over  the  man. 

"  Poor  sufferer  !  "  said  Sibyll  to  the  boy ;  "  cheer  thee : 
we  will  send  succor ;  thou  niayst  live  yet !  " 

"  Water  !  water !  —  hell  and  torture !  —  water,  I  say !  " 
groaned  the  man ;  "  one  drop  of  water !  " 

It  was  the  captain  of  the  marauders  who  had  captured 
the  wanderers. 

"  Thine  arm !  lift  me !  move  me !  That  evil  man 
scares  my  soul  from  heaven !  "  gasped  the  boy. 

And  Adam  preached  penitence  to  the  one  that  cursed, 
and  Sibyll  knelt  down  and  prayed  with  the  one  that 
prayed.  —  And  up  rose  the  moon  ! 

Lord  Hastings  sat,  with  his  victorious  captains  —  over 
mead,  morat,  and  wine  —  in  the  humble  hall  of  the  farm. 

"  So, "  said  he,  "  we  have  crushed  the  last  embers  of 
the  rebellion  !  This  Sir  Geoffrey  Gates  is  a  restless  and 
resolute  spirit;  pity  he  escapes  again  for  further  mischief. 
But  the  house  of  Nevile,  that  overshadowed  the  rising 
race,  hath  fallen  at  last, —  a  waisall,  brave  sirs,  to  the 
new  men !  " 

The  door  was  thrown  open,  and  an  old  soldier  entered 
abruptly. 

"  My  lord !  my  lord !  Oh !  my  poor  son  !  he  cannot 
be  found!  The  women,  who  ever  follow  the  march  of 
soldiers,  will  be  on  the  ground  to  despatch  the  wounded, 
that  they  may  rifle  the  corpses!  0  God!  if  my  son  — 
my  boy  —  my  only  son  —  " 


THE   LAST  OF   THE   BARONS.  213 

8  I  wist  not,  my  brave  Mervil,  that  thou  hadst  a  son 
in  our  bands ;  yet  I  know  each  man  by  name  and  sight. 
Courage!  Our  wounded  have  been  removed,  and  sen- 
tries are  placed  to  guard  the  field!  " 

"  Sentries!  0  my  lord,  knowest  thou  not  that  they 
wink  at  the  crime  that  plunders  the  dead?  Moreover, 
these  corpse-riflers  creep  stealthily  and  unseen,  as  the 
red  earth-worms,  to  the  carcass.  Give  me  some  few  of 
thy  men,  —  give  me  warrant  to  search  the  field !     My  son 

—  my  boy  —  not  sixteen  summers  —  and  his  mother — " 
The  man  stopped,  and  sobbed. 

"  Willingly !  "  said  the  gentle  Hastings,  —  willingly ! 
And  woe  to  the  sentries  if  it  be  as  thou  sayest!  I  will 
go  myself ,  and  see!  Torches  there,  —  what  ho!  —  the 
good  captain  careth  even  for  his  dead!  —  Thy  son!  I 
marvel  I  knew  him  not!  —  Whom  served  he  under?  " 

"  My  lord  !  my  lord  !  pardon  him  !     He  is  but  a  boy, 

—  they  misled  him  !  —  he  fought  for  the  rebels.  He 
crossed  my  path  to-day:  my  arm  was  raised,  —  we  knew 
each  other,  and  he  fled  from  his  father's  sword  !  —  Just 
as  the  strife  was  ended  I  saw  him  again, — I  saw  him 
fall !  —  Oh,  mercy,  mercy  !  do  not  let  him  perish  of  his 
wounds  or  by  the  rifler's  knife,  even  though  a  rebel !  " 

"  Homo  sum  !  "  quoth  the  noble  chief,  "  I  am  a  man ! 
and,  even  in  these  bloody  times,  Nature  commands  when 
she  speaks  in  a  father's  voice!  Mervil,  I  marked  thee 
to-day !  Thou  art  a  brave  fellow.  1  meant  thee  advance- 
ment:  I  give  thee,  instead,  thy  son's  pardon,  if  he  lives, 

—  ten  masses  if  he  died  as  a  soldier's  son  should  die,  no 
matter  under  what  flag:  antelope  or  lion,  pierced  man- 
fully in  the  breast,  —  his  feet  to  the  foe!  Come,  I  will 
search  with  thee !  " 

The  boy  yielded  up  his  soul  while  Sibyll  prayed,  and 
her  sweet  voice  soothed  the  last  pang ;  and  the  man 
ceased  to  curse  while  Adam  spoke  of  God's  power  and 


214         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

mercy,  and  his  breath  ebbed,  gasp  upon  gasp,  aAvay. 
While  thus  detained,  the  wanderers  saw  not  pale,  fleet- 
ing figures,  that  had  glided  to  the  ground,  and  moved, 
gleaming,  irregular,  and  rapid,  as  marsh-fed  vapors, 
from  heap  to  heap  of  the  slain.  With  a  loud,  wild 
cry,  the  robber  Lancastrian  half  sprang  to  his  feet,  in 
the  paroxysm  of  the  last  struggle,  and  then  fell  on  his 
face,  —  a  corpse  ! 

The  cry  reached  the  tymbesteres,  and  Graul  rose  from 
a  body  from  which  she  had  extracted  a  few  coins  smeared 
with  blood,  and  darted  to  the  spot;  and  so,  as  Adam 
raised  his  face  from  contemplating  the  dead,  whose  last 
moments  he  had  sought  to  soothe,  the  Alecto  of  the 
battle-field  stood  before  him,  her  knife  bare  in  her  gory 
hand.  Red  Grisell,  who  had  just  left  (with  a  spurn 
of  wrath,  —  for  the  pouch  was  empty)  the  corpse  of  a 
soldier,  round  whose  neck  she  had  twined  her  hot  clasp 
the  day  before,  sprang  towards  Sibyll;  the  rest  of  the 
sisterhood  flocked  to  the  place,  and  laughed  in  glee  as 
they  beheld  their  unexpected  prey.  The  danger  was 
horrible  and  imminent;  no  pity  was  seen  in  those 
savage  eyes.  The  wanderers  prepared  for  death, — 
when,  suddenly,  torches  flashed  over  the  ground.  A 
cry  was  heard,  "  See,  the  riflers  of  the  dead!  "  Armed 
men  bounded  forward,  and  the  startled  wretches  uttered 
a  shrill,  unearthly  scream,  and  fled  from  the  spot,  leap- 
ing over  the  carcasses,  and  doubling  and  winding,  till 
they  had  vanished  into  the  darkness  of  the  wood. 

"Provost!"  said  a  commanding  voice,  "hang  me  up 
those   sentinels  at  daybreak!" 

"My  son!  my  boy!  speak  Hal,  —  speak  to  me.  He 
is  here,  —  he  is  found!"  exclaimed  the  old  soldier, 
kneeling  beside  the  corpse  at  Sibyll 's  feet. 

"My  lord!  my  beloved!  my  Hastings!"  And  Sibyll 
fell   insensible  before  the  chief. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  215 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Subtle  Craft  of  Richard  of  Gloucester. 

It  was  some  weeks  after  the  defeat  of  Sir  Geoffrey 
Gates,  and  Edward  was  at  Shene,  with  his  gay  court. 
Reclined  at  length  within  a  pavilion  placed  before  a 
cool  fountain,  in  the  royal  gardens,  and  surrounded  by 
his  favorites,  the  king  listened  indolently  to  the  music 
of  his  minstrels,  and  sleeked  the  plumage  of  his  favorite 
falcon,  perched  upon  his  wrist.  And  scarcely  would  it 
have  been  possible  to  recognize  in  that  lazy  voluptuary 
the  dauntless  soldier,  before  whose  lance,  as  deer  before 
the  hound,  had  so  lately  fled,  at  bloody  Erpingham,  the 
chivalry  of  the  Lancastrian  Rose;  but  remote  from  the 
pavilion,  and  in  one  of  the  deserted  bowling  alleys, 
Prince  Richard  and  Lord  Montagu  walked  apart,  in 
earnest  conversation.  The  last  of  these  noble  per- 
sonages had  remained  inactive  during  the  disturbances, 
and  Edward  had  not  seemed  to  entertain  any  suspicion 
of  his  participation  in  the  anger  and  revenge  of  War- 
wick. The  king  took  from  him,  it  is  true,  the  lands 
and  earldom  of  Northumberland,  and  restored  them  to 
the  Percy,  but  he  had  accompanied  this  act  with  gra- 
cious excuses,  alleging  the  necessity  of  conciliating  the 
head  of  an  illustrious  house,  which  had  formally  entered 
into  allegiance  to  the  dynasty  of  York,  and  bestowed 
upon  his  early  favorite,   in   compensation,   the   dignity 


216         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

of  marquis.1  The  politic  king,  in  thus  depriving 
Montagu  of  the  wealth  and  the  retainers  of  the  Percy, 
reduced  him,  as  a  younger  brother,  to  a  comparative 
poverty  and  insignificance,  which  left  him  dependent 
on  Edward's  favor,  and  deprived  him,  as  he  thought, 
of  the  power  of  active  mischief;  at  the  same  time,  more 
than  ever,  he  insisted  on  Montagu's  society,  and  sum- 
moning his  attendance  at  the  court,  kept  his  movements 
in  watchful  surveillance. 

"  Nay,  my  lord,"  said  Eichard,  pursuing  with  much 
unction  the  conversation  he  had  commenced,  "you 
wrong  me  much,  Holy  Paul  be  my  witness,  if  you 
doubt  the  deep  sorrow  I  feel  at  the  unhappy  events 
which  have  led  to  the  severance  of  my  kinsmen  !  Eng- 
land seems  to  me  to  have  lost  its  smile,  in  losing  the 
glory  of  Earl  Warwick's  presence,  and  Clarence  is  my 
brother,  and  was  my  friend,  and  thou  knowest,  Mon- 
tagu, thou  knowest,  how  dear  to  my  heart  was  the  hope 
to  win  for  my  wife  and  lady  the  gentle  Anne." 

"Prince,"  said  Montagu,  abruptly,  "though  the  pride 
of  Warwick  and  the  honor  of  our  house  may  have  for- 
bidden the  public  revelation  of  the  cause  which  fired 
my  brother  to  rebellion,  thou,  at  least,  art  privy  to  a 
secret  —  " 

"  Cease  !  "  exclaimed  Eichard,  in  great  emotion,  prob- 
ably sincere,  for  his  face  grew  livid,  and  its  muscles 
were  nervously  convulsed.  "  I  would  not  have  that 
remembrance  stirred  from  its  dark  repose.  I  would 
fain  forget  a  brother's  hasty  frenzy,  in  the  belief  of  his 
lasting   penitence."       He   paused   and   turned  his   face, 

1  Montagu  said,  bitterly,  of  this  new  dignity,  "  He  takes  from 
me  the  Earldom  and  domains  of  Northumberland,  and  makes  me 
a  Marquis,  with  a  pie's  nest  to  maintain  it  withal."  —  Stowe  : 
Edw.  IV.     "  Warkworth  Chronicle.'' 


THE    LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  217 

gasped  for  breath,  and  resumed,  "The  cause  justified 
the  father;  it  had  justified  me  in  the  father's  cause,  had 
Warwick  listened  to  my  suit,  and  given  me  the  right  to 
deem  insult  to  his  daughter  injury  to  myself." 

"And  if,  my  prince,"  returned  Montagu,  looking 
round  him,  and  in  a  subdued  whisper,  —  "if  yet  the 
hand  of  Lady  Anne  were  pledged  to  you  1  " 

"Tempt  me  not,  tempt  me  not!"  cried  the  prince, 
crossing  himself.      Montagu  continued,  — 

"Our  cause,  I  mean  Lord  Warwick's  cause,  is  not 
lost,  as  the  king  deems  it." 

"  Proceed,"  said  Richard,  casting  down  his  eyes, 
while  his  countenance  settled  back  into  its  thoughtful 
calm. 

"  I  mean,"  renewed  Montagu,  "  that  in  my  brother's 
flight,  his  retainers  were  taken  by  surprise.  In  vain 
the  king  would  confiscate  his  lands,  —  he  cannot  con- 
fiscate men's  hearts.  If  Warwick  to-morrow  set  his 
armed  heel  upon  the  soil,  trowest  thou,  sagacious  and 
clear-judging  prince,  that  the  strife  which  would  follow 
would  be  but  another  field  of  Losecote  1 1  Thou  hast 
heard  of  the  honors  with  which  King  Louis  has  received 
the  earl.  Will  that  king  grudge  him  ships  and  moneys  1 
And  meanwhile,  thinkest  thou  that  his  favorers  sleep  1  " 

"  But  if  he  land,  Montagu,"  said  Richard,  who  seemed 
to  listen  with  an  attention  that  awoke  all  the  hopes  of 
Montagu,  coveting  so  powerful  an  ally,  — "  if  he  land, 
and  make  open  war  on  Edward,  we  must  say  the  word 
boldly,  —  what  intent  can  he  proclaim?  It  is  not 
enough  to  say  King  Edward  shall  not  reign;  the  earl 
must  say  also  what  king  England  should  elect !  " 

"  Prince,"  answered  Montagu,  "  before  I  reply  to  that 

l  The  battle  of  Erpingham,  so  popularly  called,  in  contempt  of 
the  rebellious  runaways. 


218         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS. 

question,  vouchsafe  to  hear  my  own  hearty  desire  and 
wish.  Though  the  king  has  deeply  wronged  my  brother, 
though  he  has  despoiled  me  of  the  lands,  which  were, 
perad venture,  not  too  large  a  reward  for  twenty  victories 
in  his  cause,  and  restored  them  to  the  house  that  ever 
ranked  amongst  the  strongholds  of  his  Lancastrian  foe, 
yet  often,  when  I  am  most  resentful,  the  memory  of  my 
royal  seigneur's  past  love  and  kindness  comes  over  me, 
—  above  all,  the  thought  of  the  solemn  contract  between 
his  daughter  and  my  son ;  —  and  I  feel  (now  the  first 
heat  of  natural  anger  at  an  insult  offered  to  my  niece  is 
somewhat  cooled),  that  if  Warwick  did  land,  I  could 
almost  forget  my  brother  for  my  king." 

"Almost!"  repeated  Richard,  smiling. 

"  I  am  plain  with  your  Highness,  and  say  but  what 
I  feel.  I  would  even  now  fain  trust,  that  by  your 
mediation,  the  king  may  be  persuaded  to  make  such 
concessions  and  excuses  as  in  truth  would  not  mis- 
beseem  him,  to  the  father  of  Lady  Anne,  and  his  own 
kinsman;  and  that  yet,  ere  it  be  too  late,  I  may  be 
spared  the  bitter  choice  between  the  ties  of  blood,  and 
my  allegiance  to  the  king." 

"But  failing  this  hope  (which  I  devoutly  share), — 
and  Edward,  it  must  be  owned,  could  scarcely  trust  to 
a  letter,  still  less  to  a  messenger,  the  confession  of  a 
crime,  —  failing  this,  and  your  brother  land,  and  I  side 
with  him  for  love  of  Anne,  pledged  to  me  as  a  bride,  — ■ 
what  king  would  he  ask  England  to  elect?  " 

"  The  Duke  of  Clarence  loves  you  dearly,  Lord  Rich- 
ard," replied  Montagu.  "  Knowest  thou  not  how  often 
he  hath  said,  '  By  sweet  St.  George,  if  Gloucester  would 
join  me,  I  would  make  Edward  know  we  were  all  one 
man's  sons,  who  should  be  more  preferred  and  promoted 
than  strangers  of  his  wife's  blood.'  " 1 

i  Hall. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         219 

Richard's  countenance  for  a  moment  evinced  disap- 
pointment; but  he  said,  dryly,  "Then  Warwick  would 
propose  that  Clarence  should  he  king?  —  And  the  great 
barons,  and  the  honest  burghers,  and  the  sturdy  yeomen, 
would,  you  think,  not  stand  aghast  at  the  manifesto 
which  declares  not  that  the  dynasty  of  York  is  corrupt 
and  faulty,  but  that  the  younger  son  should  depose  the 
elder,  —  that  younger  son,  mark  me  !  not  only  unknown 
in  war,  and  green  in  council,  but  gay,  giddy,  vacil- 
lating; not  subtle  of  wit,  and  resolute  of  deed,  as  he 
who  so  aspires  should  be  !  —  Montagu,  —  a  vain  dream !  " 
—  Richard  paused,  and  then  resumed,  in  a  low  tone,  as 
to  himself,  "  Oh  !  not  so  —  not  so  are  kings  cozened  from 
their  thrones;  a  pretext  must  blind  men,  — say  they  are 
illegitimate,  say  they  are  too  young,  —  too  feeble,  too 
anything;  glide  into  their  place;  and  then,  not  war  — 
not  war.  You  slay  them  not,  —  they  disappear  !  "  The 
duke's  face,  as  he  muttered,  took  a  sinister  and  a  dark 
expression,  —  his  eyes  seemed  to  gaze  on  space.  Sud- 
denly recovering  himself  as  from  a  revery,  he  turned, 
with  his  wonted  sleek  and  gracious  aspect,  to  the  startled 
Montagu,  and  said,  "I  was  but  quoting  from  Italian 
history,  good  my  lord,  —  wise  lore,  but  terrible,  and 
murderous.  Return  we  to  the  point.  Thou  seest 
Clarence  could  not  reign,  and  as  well,"  added  the 
prince,  with  a  slight  sigh  —  "as  well  or  better  (for, 
without  vanity,  I  have  more  of  a  king's  metal  in  me) 
might  I  —  even  I — aspire  to  my  brother's  crown!" 
Here  he  paused,  and  glanced  rapidly  and  keenly  at  the 
marquis;  but  whether  or  not  in  these  words  he  had 
sought  to  sound  Montagu,  and  that  glance  sufficed  to 
show  him  it  were  bootless  or  dangerous  to  speak  more 
plainly,  he  resumed  with  an  altered  voice,  "Enough  of 
this:  Warwick  will  discover  the  idleness  of  such  design; 


220  THE   LAST    OF   THE   BARONS. 

and  if  he  land,  his  trumpets  must  ring  to  a  more  kindling 
measure.  John  Montagu,  thinkest  thou  that  Margaret 
of  Anjou  and  the  Lancastrians  will  not  rather  win  thy 
brother  to  their  side?  There  is  the  true  danger  to 
Edward,  —  none  elsewhere.  " 

"And  if  so?"  said  Montagu,  watching  his  listener's 
countenance.  Richard  started,  and  gnawed  his  lip. 
"Mark  me,"  continued  the  marquis, — "I  repeat  that 
I  would  fain  hope  yet,  that  Edward  may  appease  the 
earl;  but  if  not,  and  rather  than  rest  dishonored  and 
aggrieved,  Warwick  link  himself  with  Lancaster,  and 

Do  " 

thou  join  him  as  Anne's  betrothed  and  lord,  what 
matters  who  the  puppet  on  the  throne  !  —  Ave  and  thou 
shall  be  the  rulers;  or,  if  thou  reject,"  added  the  mar- 
quis, artfully,  as  he  supposed,  exciting  the  jealousy  of 
the  duke,  "  Henry  has  a  son,  —  a  fair,  and  they  say,  a 
gallant  prince,  —  carefully  tutored  in  the  knowledge  of 
our  English  laws,  and  who,  my  Lord  of  Oxford,  some- 
what in  the  confidence  of  the  Lancastrians,  assures  me, 
would  rejoice  to  forget  old  feuds,  and  call  Warwick 
'  father,'  and  my  niece  '  Lady  and  Princess  of  Wales.' 

With  all  his  dissimulation,  Richard  could  ill  conceal 
the  emotions  of  fear  —  of  jealousy,  of  dismay  —  which 
these  words  excited. 

"  Lord  Oxford  !  "  he  cried,  stamping  his  foot.  "  Ha  ! 
John  de  Vere, — pestilent  traitor,  plottest  thou  thus1? 
But  we  can  yet  seize  thy  person,  and  will  have  thy 
head." 

Alarmed  at  this  burst,  and  suddenly  made  aware  that 
he  had  laid  his  breast  too  bare  to  the  boy,  whom  he  had 
thought  to  dazzle  and  seduce  to  his  designs,  Montagu 
said,  falteringly:  "But,  my  lord,  our  talk  is  but  in 
confidence;  at  your  own  prayer,  with  your  own  plighted 
word,    of   prince  and  of  kinsman,  that,   whatever   my 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         221 

frankness  may  utter,  should  not  pass  farther.  Take," 
added  the  nohleman,  with  proud  dignity  —  "take  my 
head  rather  than  Lord  Oxford's,  for  I  deserve  death, 
if  I  reveal  to  one  who  can  betray,  the  loose  words  of 
another's  intimacy  and  trust!" 

"Forgive  me,  my  cousin,"  said  Richard,  meekly; 
"  my  love  to  Anne  transported  me  too  far.  Lord 
Oxford's  words,  as  you  report  them,  had  conjured  up 
a  rival,  and  —  but  enough  of  this.  And  now,"  added 
the  prince,  gravely,  and  with  a  steadiness  of  voice  and 
manner  that  gave  a  certain  majesty  to  his  small  stature 
—  "now,  as  thou  hast  spoken  openly,  openly  also  will 
I  reply.  I  feel  the  wrong  to  the  Lady  Anne  as  to 
myself;  deeply,  burningly,  and  lastingly  will  it  live  in 
my  mind:  it  may  be,  sooner  or  later,  to  rise  to  gloomy 
deeds,  even  against  Edward  and  Edward's  blood.  But 
no,  I  have  the  king's  solemn  protestations  of  repentance; 
his  guilty  passion  has  burned  into  ashes,  and  he  now 
sighs  —  gay  Edward  —  for  a  lighter  fere.  I  cannot  join 
with  Clarence,  less  can  I  join  with  the  Lancastrians. 
My  birth  makes  me  the  prop  of  the  throne  of  York, — 
to  guard  it  as  a  heritage  (who  knows)  that  may  descend 
to  mine  —  nay,  to  me!  And,  mark  me  well!  if  War- 
wick attempt  a  war  of  fratricide,  he  is  lost;  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  can  submit  himself  to  the  hands  of 
Margaret,  stained  with  his  father's  gore,  the  success  of 
an  hour  will  close  in  the  humiliation  of  a  life.  There 
is  a  third  way  left,  and  that  way  thou  hast  piously  and 
wisely  shown.  Let  him,  like  me,  resign  revenge,  and, 
not  exacting  a  confession  and  a  cry  of  peccavi,  which  no 
king,  much  less  King  Edward  the  Plantagenet,  can 
whimper  forth,  —  let  him  accept  such  overtures  as  his 
liege  can  make.  His  titles  and  castles  shall  be  restored, 
equal   possessions  to   those   thou   hast  lost    assigned   to 


222         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

thee,  and  all  my  guerdon  (if  I  can  so  negotiate)  as  all 
my  ambition, — his  daughter's  hand.  Muse  on  this, 
and  for  the  peace  and  weal  of  the  realm  so  limit  all  thy 
schemes,  my  lord  and  cousin  !  " 

With  these  words  the  prince  pressed  the  hand  of  the 
marquis,  and  walked  slowly  towards  the  king's  pavilion. 

"  Shame  on  my  ripe  manhood  and  lore  of  life,"  mut- 
tered Montagu,  enraged  against  himself,  and  deeply 
mortified.  "  How  sentence  by  sentence,  and  step  by 
step  yon  crafty  pygmy  led  me  on,  till  all  our  projects, 
—  all  our  fears  and  hopes  are  revealed  to  him,  who  but 
views  them  as  a  foe.  Anne  betrothed  to  one  who,  even 
in  fiery  youth,  can  thus  beguile  and  dupe  !  Warwick 
decoyed  hither  upon  fair  words,  at  the  will  of  one  whom 
Italy  (boy,  there  thou  didst  forget  thy  fence  of  cunning  !) 
has  taught  how  the  great  are  slain  not,  but  disappear  ! 
No,  even  this  defeat  instructs  me  now.  But  right  — 
right !  the  reign  of  Clarence  is  impossible,  and  that  of 
Lancaster  is  ill-omened  and  portentous;  and  after  all, 
my  son  stands  nearer  to  the  throne  than  any  subject, 
in  his  alliance  with  the  Lady  Elizabeth.  Would  to 
Heaven  the  king  could  yet —  But  out  on  me!  this  is 
no  hour  for  musing  on  mine  own  aggrandizement;  rather 
let  me  fly  at  once  and  warn  Oxford  —  imperilled  by  my 
imprudence  —  against  that  dark  eye  which  hath  set  watch 
upon  his  life." 

At  that  thought,  which  showed  that  Montagu,  with 
all  his  worldliness,  was  not  forgetful  of  one  of  the  first 
duties  of  knight  and  gentleman,  the  marquis  hastened 
up  the  alley,  —  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  taken 
by  Gloucester,  —  and  soon  found  himself  in  the  court- 
yard, where  a  goodly  company  were  mounting  their 
haquenees  and  palfreys,  to  enjoy  a  summer  ride  through 
the    neighboring    chase.     The    cold   and    half-slighting 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         223 

salutations  of  these  minions  of  the  hour,  which  now 
mortified  the  Nevile,  despoiled  of  the  possessions  that 
had  rewarded  his  long  and  brilliant  services, —  contrast- 
ing forcibly  the  reverential  homage  he  had  formerly 
enjoyed,  stung  Montagu  to  the  quick. 

"Whither  ride  you,  brother  marquis?"  said  young 
Lord  Dorset  (Elizabeth's  son  by  her  first  marriage),  as 
Montagu  called  to  his  single  squire,  who  was  in  waiting 
with  his  horse.  "  Some  secret  expedition,  methinks, 
for  I  have  known  the  day  when  the  Lord  Montagu 
never  rode  from  his  king's  palace  with  less  than  thirty 
squires." 

"  Since  my  Lord  Dorset  prides  himself  on  his  mem- 
ory," answered  the  scornful  lord,  "  he  may  remember 
also  the  day  when,  if  a  Nevile  mounted  in  haste,  he 
bade  the  first  Woodville  he  saw  hold  the  stirrup." 

And  regarding  "the  brother  marquis"  with  a  stately 
eye  that  silenced  and  awed  retort,  the  long-descended 
Montagu  passed  the  courtiers,  and  rode  slowly  on  till 
out  of  sight  of  the  palace ;  he  then  pushed  into  a  hand 
gallop,  and  halted  not  till  he  had  reached  London, 
and  gained  the  house  in  which  then  dwelt  the  Earl  of 
Oxford,  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  Lancastrian  nobles 
not  in  exile,  and  who  had  hitherto  temporized  with  the 
reigning  house. 

Two  days  afterwards  the  news  reached  Edward  that 
Lord  Oxford  and  Jasper  of  Pembroke  —  uncle  to  the 
boy  afterwards  Henry  VII.  — had  sailed  from  England. 

The  tidings  reached  the  king  in  his  chamber,  where 
he  was  closeted  with  Gloucester.  The  conference 
between  them  seemed  to  have  been  warm  and  earnest, 
for  Edward's  face  was  flushed,  and  Gloucester's  brow 
was  perturbed  and  sullen. 

"  Now  Heaven  be  praised !  "  cried  the  king,    extend- 


224         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

ing  to  Richard  the  letter  which  communicated  the  flight 
of  the  disaffected  lords.  "  We  have  two  enemies  the 
less  in  our  roiaulme,  and  many  a  barony  the  more  to 
confiscate  to  our  kingly  wants.  Ha,  ha !  these  Lancas- 
trians only  serve  to  enrich  us.  Frowning  still,  Richard  ; 
smile,  boy!  " 

"  Fol  de  mon  dme,  Edward,"  said  Richard,  with  a 
bitter  energy,  strangely  at  variance  with  his  usual 
unctious  deference  to  the  king,  "  your  Highness's  gayety 
is  ill-seasoned ;  you  reject  all  the  means  to  assure  your 
throne,  —  you  rejoice  in  all  the  events  that  imperil  it. 
I  prayed  you  to  lose  not  a  moment  in  conciliating, 
if  possible,  the  great  lord  whom  you  own  you  have 
wronged,  and  you  replied  that  you  would  rather  lose 
your  crown  than  win  back  the  arm  that  gave  it  yon." 

"  Gave  it  me!  an  error,  Richard!  that  crown  was  at 
once  the  heritage  of  my  own  birth,  and  the  achieve- 
ment of  my  own  sword.  But  were  it  as  you  say,  it  is 
not  in  a  king's  nature  to  bear  the  presence  of  a  power 
more  formidable  than  his  own,  —  to  submit  to  a  voice 
that  commands  rather  than  counsels;  and  the  happiest 
chance  that  ever  befell  me  is  the  exile  of  this  earl. 
How,  after  what  hath  chanced,  can  I  ever  see  his 
face  again  without  humiliation,  or  he  mine  without 
resentment?  " 

"  So  you  told  me  anon,  and  I  answered,  if  that  be  so, 
and  your  Highness  shrinks  from  the  man  you  have 
injured,  beware  at  least  that  Warwick,  if  he  may  not 
return  as  a  friend,  come  not  back  as  an  irresistible  foe. 
If  you  will  not  conciliate,  crush!  Hasten  by  all  arts 
to  separate  Clarence  from  Warwick.  Hasten  to  prevent 
the  union  of  the  earl's  popularity  and  Henr}r's  rights. 
Keep  eye  upon  all  the  Lancastrian  lords,  and  see  that 
none  quit  the  realm,  where  they  are  captives,   to  join 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BATONS.         225 

a  camp  where  they  can  rise  into  leaders.  And  at  the 
very  moment  I  urge  you  to  place  strict  watch  upon 
Oxford,  — to  send  your  swiftest  riders  to  seize  Jasper  of 
Pembroke,  —  you  laugh  with  glee  to  hear  that  Oxford 
and  Pembroke  are  gone  to  swell  the  army  of  your 
foes!" 

"Better  foes  out  of  my  realm  than  in  it,"  answered 
Edward,  dryly. 

"My  liege,  I  say  no  more,"  and  Richard  rose.  "I 
would  forestall  a  danger;  it  but  remains  for  me  to 
share  it." 

The  king  was  touched.  "  Tarry  yet,  Richard,"  he 
said;  and  then,  fixing  his  brother's  eye,  he  continued, 
with  a  half-smile  and  a  heightened  color,  "  Though  we 
know  thee  true  and  leal  to  us,  Ave  yet  know  also,  Rich- 
ard, that  thou  hast  personal  interest  in  thy  counsels. 
Thou  wouldst  by  one  means  or  another  soften  or  con- 
strain the  earl  into  giving  thee  the  hand  of  Anne. 
Well,  then,  grant  that  Warwick  and  Clarence  expel 
King  Edward  from  his  throne,  they  may  bring  a  bride 
to  console  thee  for  the  ruin  of  a  brother." 

"  Thou  hast  no  right  to  taunt  or  to  suspect  me,  my 
liege,"  returned  Richard,  with  a  quiver  in  his  lip. 
"  Thou  hast  included  me  in  thy  meditated  wrong  to 
Warwick ;  and  had  that  wrong  been  done  —  " 

"  Peradventure  it  had  made  thee  espouse  Warwick's 
quarrel  1  " 

"  Bluntly,  yes!  "  exclaimed  Richard,  almost  fiercely, 
and  playing  with  his  dagger.  "But,"  he  added,  with 
a  sudden  change  of  voice,  "  I  understand  and  know  thee 
better  than  the  earl  did  or  could.  I  know  what  in  thee 
is  but  thoughtless  impulse,  haste  of  passion,  the  habit 
kings  form  of  forgetting  all  things  save  the  love  or  hate, 
the  desire  or  anger,  of  a  moment.     Thou  hast  told  me 

VOL.  II.  — 15 


226  THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS. 

thyself,  and  with  tears,  of  thy  offence;  thou  hast  par- 
doned my  boy's  burst  of  anger;  I  have  pardoned  thy 
evil  thought;  thou  hast  told  me  thyself  that  another 
face  has  succeeded  to  the  brief  empire  of  Anne's  blue 
eye,  and  hast  further  pledged  me  thy  kingly  word,  that 
if  I  can  yet  compass  the  hand  of  a  cousin,  dear  to  me 
from  childhood,  thou  wilt  confirm  the  union." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Edward.  "But  if  thou  wed  thy 
bride,  keep  her  aloof  from  the  court,  —  nay,  frown  not, 
my  boy,  I  mean  simply  that  I  would  not  blush  before 
my  brother's  wife!  " 

Richard  bowed  low  in  order  to  conceal  the  expression 
of  his  face,  and  went  on  without  further  notice  of  the 
explanation. 

"And  all  this  considered,  Edward,  I  swear  by  St. 
Paul,  the  holiest  saint  to  thoughtful  men,  and  by  St. 
George,  the.  noblest  patron  to  high-born  warriors,  that 
thy  crown  and  thine  honor  are  as  dear  to  me  as  if  they 
were  mine  own.  Whatever  sins  Richard  of  Gloucester 
may  live  to  harbor  and  repent,  no  man  shall  ever  say  of 
him  that  he  was  a  recreant  to  the  honor  of  his  country,1 
or  slow  to  defend  the  rights  of  his  ancestors  from  the 
treason  of  a  vassal  or  the  sword  of  a  foreign  foe.  There- 
fore, I  say  again,  if  thou  reject  my  honest  counsels; 
if  thou  suffer  Warwick  to  unite  with  Lancaster  and 
France ;  if  the  ships  of  Louis  bear  to  your  shores  an 
enemy,  the  might  of  whom  your  reckless  dariug  under- 
values, —  foremost  in  the  field  in  battle,  nearest  to  your 
side  in  exile,  shall  Richard  Plantagenet  be  found!  " 

These  words,  being  uttered  with  sincerity,  and  con- 

1  So  Lord  Bacon  observes  of  Richard,  with  that  discrimination, 
even  in  the  strongest  censure,  of  which  profound  judges  of  man- 
kind are  alone  capable,  that  he  was  "  a  king  jealous  of  the  honor 
of  the  English  nation." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         227 

veying  a  promise  never  forfeited,  were  more  impressive 
than  the  subtlest  eloquence  the  wily  and  accomplished 
Gloucester  ever  employed  as  the  cloak  to  guile,  and 
they  so  affected  Edward,  that  he  threw  his  arms  around 
his  brother;  and  after  one  of  those  bursts  of  emotion 
which  were  frequent  in  one  whose  feelings  were  never 
deep  and  lasting,  but  easily  aroused  and  warmly  spoken, 
he  declared  himself  ready  to  listen  to  and  adopt  all 
means  which  Richard's  art  could  suggest  for  the  better 
maintenance  of  their  common  weal  and  interests. 

And  then,  with  that  wondrous,  if  somewhat  too  rest- 
less and  over-refining  energy  which  belonged  to  him, 
Richard  rapidly  detailed  the  scheme  of  his  profound 
and  dissimulating  policy.  His'  keen  and  intuitive 
insight  into  human  nature  had  shown  him  the  stern 
necessity  which,  against  their  very  will,  must  unite 
Warwick  with  Margaret  of  Anjou.  His  conversation 
with  Montagu  had  left  no  doubt  of  that  peril  on  his 
penetrating  mind.  He  foresaw  that  this  union  might 
be  made  durable  and  sacred  by  the  marriage  of  Anne 
and  Prince  Edward;  and  to  defeat  this  alliance  was 
his  first  object,  partly  through  Clarence,  partly  through 
Margaret  herself.  A  gentlewoman  in  the  Duchess  of 
Clarence's  train  had  been  arrested  on  the  point  of 
embarking  to  join  her  mistress.  Richard  had  already 
seen  and  conferred  with  this  lady,  whose  ambition, 
duplicity,  and  talent  for  intrigue,  were  known  to  him. 
Having  secured  her  by  promises  of  the  most  lavish 
dignities  and  rewards,  he  proposed  that  she  should  be 
permitted  to  join  the  duchess  with  secret  messages  to 
Isabel  and  the  duke,  warning  them  both  that  Warwick 
and  Margaret  would  forget  their  past  feud  in  present 
sympathy,  and  that  the  rebellion  against  King  Edward, 
instead  of  placing  them  on  the  throne,   would  humble 


228         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

them  to  be  subordinates  and  aliens  to  the  real  profiters, 

—  the  Lancastrians.1  He  foresaw  what  effect  these 
warnings  would  have  upon  the  vain  duke  and  the 
ambitious  Isabel,  whose  character  was  known  to  him 
from  childhood.  He  startled  the  king  by  insisting 
upon  sending,  at  the  same  time,  a  trusty  diplomatist 
to  Margaret  of  Anjou,  proffering  to  give  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  (betrothed  to  Lord  Montagu's  son)  to  the 
young  Prince  Edward.2  Thus,  if  the  king,  who  had, 
as  yet,  no  son,  were  to  die,  Margaret's  son,  in  right  of 
his  wife,  as  well  as  in  that  of  his  own  descent,  would 
peaceably  ascend  the  throne.  "  Need  I  say  that  I  mean 
not  this  in  sad  and  serious  earnest,"  observed  Richard, 
interrupting  the  astonished  king,  —  "I  mean  it  but  to 
amuse  the  Anjouite,  and  to  deafen  her  ears  to  any 
overtures  from  Warwick.      If  she  listen,  we  gain  time, 

—  that  time  will  inevitably  renew  irreconcilable  quarrel 
between  herself  and  the  earl.  His  hot  temper  and 
desire  of  revenge  will  not  brook  delay.  He  will  land, 
unsupported  by  Margaret  and  her  partisans,  and  without 
any  fixed  principle  of  action  which  can  strengthen  force 
by  opinion." 

"You  are  right,  Richard,"  said  Edward,  whose  faith- 
less cunning  comprehended  the  more  sagacious  policy 
it  could  not  originate.      "  All  be  it  as  you  will." 

"And  in  the  meanwhile,"  added  Richard,  "watch 
■well,  but  anger  not  Montagu  and  the  archbishop.  It 
were  dangerous  to  seem  to  distrust  them  till  proof  be 
clear,  —  it  were  dull  to  believe  them  true.  I  go  at  once 
to  fulfil  my  task." 

1  Comixes,  3,  c.  5  ;  Hall  ;  Hollinshed. 

2  Original  Letters  from  Harleian  MSS. — Edited  by  Sir  H. 
Ellis  (second  series). 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         229 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Warwick  and  his  Family  iu  Exile. 

We  now  summon  the  reader  on  a  longer  if  less  classic 
journey  than  from  Thebes  to  Athens,  and  waft  him  on 
a  rapid  wing  from  Shene  to  Amboise.  We  must  sup- 
pose that  the  two  emissaries  of  Gloucester  have  already 
arrived  at  their  several  destinations :  the  lady  has  reached 
Isabel,  —  the  envoy,  Margaret. 

In  one  of  the  apartments  appropriated  to  the  earl  in 
the  royal  palace,  within  the  embrasure  of  a  vast  Gothic 
casement,  sat  Anne  of  Warwick;  the  small  wicket  in 
the  window  was  open,  and  gave  a  view  of  a  wide  and 
fair  garden,  interspersed  with  thick  bosquets,  and  regu- 
lar alleys,  over  which  the  rich  skies  of  the  summer 
evening,  a  little  before  sunset,  cast  alternate  light  and 
shadow.  Towards  this  prospect  the  sweet  face  of  the 
Lady  Anne  was  turned  musingly.  The  riveted  eye, 
the  bended  neck,  the  arms  reclining  on  the  knee,  the 
slender  fingers  interlaced,  —  gave  to  her  whole  person 
the  character  of  revery  and  repose. 

In  the  same  chamber  were  two  other  ladies ;  the  one 
was  pacing  the  floor  with  slow  but  uneven  steps,  with 
lips  moving  from  time  to  time,  as  if  in  self-commune, 
with  the  brow  contracted  slightly :  her  form  and  face 
took  also  the  character  of  revery,  but  not  of  repose. 

The  third  female  (the  gentle  and  lovely  mother  of 
the  other  two)  was  seated,  towards  the  centre  of  the 
room,  before  a  small  table,  on  which  rested  one  of  those 


230         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

religious  manuscripts,  full  of  the  moralities  and  the 
marvels  of  cloister  sanctity,  which  made  so  large  a  por- 
tion of  the  literature  of  the  monkish  ages.  But  her 
eye  rested  not  on  the  Gothic  letter  and  the  rich  blazon 
of  the  holy  book.  With  all  a  mother's  fear,  and  all  a 
mother's  fondness,  it  glanced  from  Isabel  to  Anne, — 
from  Anne  to  Isabel, — ■  till  at  length,  in  one  of  those  soft 
voices,  so  rarely  heard,  which  makes  even  a  stranger 
love  the  speaker,    the  fair  countess  said, — 

"  Come  hither,  my  child  Isabel ;  give  me  thy  hand, 
and  whisper  me  what  hath  chafed  thee." 

"  My  mother, "  replied  the  duchess,  "  it  would  become 
me  ill  to  have  a  secret  not  known  to  thee,  and  yet, 
methinks,  it  would  become  me  less  to  say  aught  to 
provoke  thine  anger." 

"  Anger,  Isabel !  who  ever  knew  anger  for  those  they 
love  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me,  my  sweet  mother, "  said  Isabel,  relax- 
ing her  haughty  brow,  and  she  approached  and  kissed 
her  mother's  cheek. 

The  countess  drew  her  gently  to  a  seat  by  her  side. 

"  And  now  tell  me  all,  —  unless,  indeed,  thy  Clarence 
hath,  in  some  lover's  hasty  mood,  vexed  thy  affection; 
for  of  the  household  secrets,  even  a  mother  should  not 
question  the  true  wife." 

Isabel  paused,  and  glanced  significantly  at  Anne. 

"Nay, —  see!"  said  the  countess,  smiling,  though 
sadly,  —  "  she,  too,  hath  thoughts  that  she  will  not  tell 
to  me;  but  they  seem  not  such  as  should  alarm  my 
fears  as  thine  do.  For  the  moment  ere  I  spoke  to 
thee,  thy  brow  frowned,  and  her  lip  smiled.  She  hears 
us  not, —  speak  on." 

"  Is  it  then  true,  my  mother,  that  Margaret  of  Anjou 
is  hastening  hither  ?    and  can  it  be  possible  that    King 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         231 

Louis  can  persuade  my  lord  and  father  to  meet,   save  in 
the  field  of  battle,  the  arch  enemy  of  our  house  ?  " 

"  Ask  the  earl  thyself,  Isabel ;  Lord  Warwick  hath 
no  concealment  from  his  children.  Whatever  he  doth 
is  ever  wisest,  best,  and  knightliest,  —  so,  at  least,  may 
his  children  alway  deem!  " 

Isabel's  color  changed,  and  her  eye  flashed.  But 
ere  she  could  answer,  the  arras  was  raised,  and  Lord 
Warwick  entered.  But  no  longer  did  the  hero's  mien 
and  manner  evince  that  cordial  and  tender  cheerfulness 
which,  in  all  the  storms  of  his  changeful  life,  he  had 
hitherto  displayed  when  coming  from  power  and  danger, 
from  council  or  from  camp,  to  man's  earthly  paradise, — 
a  virtuous  home. 

Gloomy  and  absorbed,  his  very  dress  —  which,  at  that 
day,  the  Anglo-Norman  deemed  it  a  sin  against  self- 
dignity  to  neglect  —  betraying,  by  its  disorder,  that 
thorough  change  of  the  whole  mind,  that  terrible  inter- 
nal revolution  which  is  made,  but  in  strong  natures, 
by  the  tyranny  of  a  great  care  or  a  great  passion,  the 
earl  scarcely  seemed  to  heed  his  countess,  who  rose 
hastily,  but  stopped  in  the  timid  fear  and  reverence 
of  love  at  the  sight  of  his  stern  aspect, —  he  threw  him- 
self abruptly  on  a  seat,  passed  his  hand  over  his  face, 
and  sighed  heavily. 

That  sigh  dispelled  the  fear  of  the  Avife,  and  made 
her  alive  only  to  her  privilege  of  the  soother.  She  drew 
near,  and,  placing  herself  on  the  green  rushes  at  his  feet, 
took  his  hand  and  kissed  it,  but  did  not  speak. 

The  earl's  eyes  fell  on  the  lovely  face  looking  up  to 
him  through  tears,  his  brow  softened,  he  drew  his  hand 
gently  from  hers,  placed  it  on  her  head,  and  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  — 

"  God  and  our  Lady  bless  thee,  sweet  wife !  " 


232  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

Then,  looking  round,  lie  saw  Isabel  watching  him 
intently,  and,  rising  at  once,  he  threw  his  arm  round 
her  waist,  pressed  her  to  his  bosom,  and  said,  "  My 
daughter,  for  thee  and  thine,  day  and  night  have  I 
striven  and  planned  in  vain.  I  cannot  reward  thy 
husband  as  I  would, —  I  cannot  give  thee,  as  I  had 
hoped,  a  throne  !  " 

"  What  title  so  dear  to  Isabel, "  said  the  countess, 
"  as  that  of  Lord  Warwick's  daughter  1  " 

Isabel  remained  cold  and  silent,  and  returned  not 
the    earl's    embrace. 

Warwick  was,  happily,  too  absorbed  in  his  own  feel- 
ings to  notice  those  of  his  child.  Moving  away,  he 
continued,  as  he  paced  the  room  (his  habit  in  emotion, 
which  Isabel,  who  had  many  minute  external  traits 
in  common  with  her  father,  had  unconsciously  caught 
from  him), — 

"  Till  this  morning,  I  hoped  still  that  my  name  and 
services,  that  Clarence's  popular  bearing,  and  his  birth 
of  Plantagenet,  would  suffice  to  summon  the  English 
people  round  our  standard,  — that  the  false  Edward 
would  be  driven,  on  our  landing,  to  fly  the  realm ; 
and  that,  without  change  to  the  dynasty  of  York, 
Clarence,  as  next  male  heir,  would  ascend  the  throne. 
True,  I  saw  all  the  obstacles, —  all  the  difficulties;  I 
was  warned  of  them  before  I  left  England;  but  still 
I  hoped.  Lord  Oxford  has  arrived,  —  he  has  just  left 
me.  We  have  gone  over  the  chart  of  the  way  before 
us,  weighed  the  worth  of  every  name,  for  and  against; 
and,  alas !  I  cannot  but  allow  that  all  attempt  to  place 
the  younger  brother  on  the  throne  of  the  elder  would 
but  lead  to  bootless  slaughter  and  irretrievable  defeat." 

"  Wherefore  think  you  so,  my  lord  ?  "  asked  Isabel, 
in  evident  excitement.     "  Your  own  retainers  are  sixty 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         233 

thousand :  an  army  larger  than  Edward,  and  all  his  lords 
of  yesterday,  can  bring  into  the  field. " 

"My  child,"  answered  the  earl,  with  that  profound 
knowledge  of  his  countrymen  which  he  had  rather 
acquired  from  his  English  heart,  than  from  any  subtlety 
of  intellect,  "  armies  may  gain  a  victory,  but  they  do 
not  achieve  a  throne,  —  unless,  at  least,  they  enforce  a 
slavery ;  and  it  is  not  for  me  and  for  Clarence  to  be  the 
violent  conquerors  of  our  countrymen,  but  the  regenera- 
tors of  a  free  realm,  corrupted  by  a  false  man's  rule. " 

"And  what  then,"  exclaimed  Isabel,  — "  what  do  you 
propose,  my  father?  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  can 
unite  yourself  with  the  abhorred  Lancastrians, —  with 
the  savage  Anjouite,  who  beheaded  my  grandsire, 
Salisbury  1  Well  do  I  remember  your  own  words, 
'May  God  and  St.  George  forget  me,  when  I  forget 
those  gray  and  gory  hairs  !  '  " 

Here  Isabel  was  interrupted  by  a  faint  cry  from 
Anne,  who,  unobserved  by  the  rest,  and  hitherto  con- 
cealed from  her  father's  eye  by  the  deep  embrasure  of 
the  window,  had  risen  some  moments  before,  and  lis- 
tened, with  breathless  attention,  to  the  conversation 
between  Warwick  and  the  duchess. 

"  It  is  not  true,  —  it  is  not  true !  "  exclaimed  Anne, 
passionately.     "  Margaret  disowns  the  inhuman  deed. " 

"  Thou  art  right,  Anne, "  said  Warwick ;  "  though  I 
guess  not  how  thou  didst  learn  the  error  of  a  report  so 
popularly  believed,  that  till  of  late  I  never  questioned 
its  truth.  King  Louis  assures  me  solemnly,  that  that 
foul  act  was  done  by  the  butcher  Clifford,  against  Mar- 
garet's knowledge,  and,  when  known,  to  her  grief  and 
anger. " 

"  And  you,  who  call  Edward  false,  can  believe  Louis 
true  !  " 


234         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

"  Cease,  Isabel,  —  cease !  "  said  the  countess.  "  Is  it 
thus  my  child  can  address  my  lord  and  husband  1  For- 
give her,  beloved  Richard." 

"Such  heat  in  Clarence's  wife  misbeseems  her  not," 
answered  Warwick.  "  And  I  can  comprehend  and  par- 
don in  my  haughty  Isabel  a  resentment  which  her  reason 
must,  at  last,  subdue ;  for  think  not,  Isabel,  that  it  is 
without  dread  struggle  and  fierce  agony  that  I  can  con- 
template peace  and  league  with  mine  ancient  foe.  But 
here  two  duties  speak  to  me  in  voices  not  to  be  denied : 
my  honor  and  my  hearth,  as  noble  and  as  man,  demand 
redress,  —  and  the  weal  and  glory  of  my  country  demand 
a  ruler  who  does  not  degrade  a  warrior,  nor  assail  a 
virgin,  nor  corrupt  a  people  by  lewd  pleasures,  nor 
exhaust  a  land  by  grinding  imposts ;  and  that  honor 
shall  be  vindicated,  and  that  country  shall  be  righted,  no 
matter  at  what  sacrifice  of  private  grief  and  pride. " 

The  words  and  the  tone  of  the  earl  for  a  moment 
awed  even  Isabel,  but,  after  a  pause,  she  said,  sullenly, 
"  And  for  this,  then,  Clarence  hath  joined  your  quarrel, 
and  shared  your  exile  !  —  for  this,  —  that  he  may  place 
the  eternal  barrier  of  the  Lancastrian  line  between  him- 
self and  the  English  throne  !  " 

"  I  would  fain  hope,"  answered  the  earl,  calmly, 
"  that  Clarence  will  view  our  hard  position  more  chari- 
tably than  thou.  If  he  gain  not  all  that  I  could  desire, 
should  success  crown  our  arms,  he  will,  at  least,  gain 
much;  for  often  and  ever  did  thy  husband,  Isabel, 
urge  me  to  stern  measures  against  Edward,  when  I 
soothed  him  and  restrained.  Mort  Dleu !  how  often 
did  he  complain  of  slight  and  insult  from  Elizabeth 
and  her  minions,  of  open  affront  from  Edward,  of 
parsimony  to  his  wants  as  prince,  —  of  a  life,  in  short, 
humbled  and  made  bitter  by  all  the  indignity  and  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         235 

gall  which  scornful  power  can  inflict  on  dependent 
pride.  If  he  gain  not  the  throne,  he  will  gain,  at 
least,  the  succession,  in  thy  right,  to  the  baronies  of 
Beauchamp,  the  mighty  duchy  and  the  vast  heritage 
of  York,  the  viceroyalty  of  Ireland.  Never  prince  of 
the  blood  had  wealth  and  honors  equal  to  those  that 
shall  await  thy  lord.  For  the  rest,  I  drew  him  not 
into  my  quarrel,  —  long  before,  would  he  have  drawn 
me  into  his;  nor  doth  it  become  thee,  Isabel,  as  child 
and  as  sister,  to  repent,  if  the  husband  of  my  daughter 
felt  as  brave  men  feel,  without  calculation  of  gain  and 
profit,  the  insult  offered  to  his  lady's  house.  But  if 
here  I  overgauge  his  chivalry  and  love  to  me  and  mine, 
or  discontent  his  ambition  and  his  hopes,  Mart  Dieuf 
we  hold  him  not  a  captive.  Edward  will  hail  his  over- 
tures of  peace;  let  him  make  terms  with  his  brother, 
and  return." 

"  I  will  report  to  him  what  you  say,  my  lord, "  said 
Isabel,  with  cold  brevity;  and,  bending  her  haughty 
head  in  formal  reverence,  she  advanced  to  the  door. 
Anne  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  hand. 

"Oh,  Isabel!"  she  whispered;  "in  our  father's  sad 
and  gloomy  hour  can  you  leave  him  thus  ?  "  —  and  the 
sweet  lady  burst  into  tears. 

"  Anne, "  retorted  Isabel,  bitterly,  "  thy  heart  is  Lan- 
castrian; and  what,  peradventure,  grieves  my  father, 
hath  but  joy  for  thee. " 

Anne  drew  back,  pale  and  trembling,  and  her  sister 
swept  from  the  room. 

The  earl,  though  he  had  not  overheard  the  whispered 
sentences  which  passed  between  his  daughters,  had 
watched  them  closely,  and  his  lip  quivered  with  emotion 
as  Isabel  closed  the  door. 

"Come  hither,  my  Anne, "  he  said,  tenderly;  "thou, 


236         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

who  hast  thy  mother's  face,  never  hast  a  harsh  thought 
for  thy  father. " 

As  Anne  threw  herself  on  Warwick's  hreast,  he  con- 
tinued, "  And  how  earnest  thou  to  learn  that  Margaret 
disowns  a  deed  that,  if  done  by  her  command,  would 
render  my  union  with  her  cause  a  sacrilegious  impiety  to 
the  dead  ?  " 

Anne  colored,  and  nestled  her  head  still  closer  to  her 
father's  bosom.  Her  mother  regarded  her  confusion  and 
her  silence  with  an  anxious  eye. 

The  wing  of  the  palace  in  which  the  earl's  apartments 
were  situated  was  appropriated  to  himself  and  household, 
flanked  to  the  left  by  an  abutting  pile  containing  state- 
chambers,  never  used  by  the  austere  and  thrifty  Louis, 
save  on  great  occasions  of  pomp  or  revel ;  and,  as  we 
have  before  observed,  looking  on  a  garden,  —  which  was 
generally  solitary  and  deserted.  From  this  garden,  while 
Anne  yet  strove  for  words  to  answer  her  father,  and  the 
countess  yet  watched  her  embarrassment,  suddenly  came 
the  soft  strain  of  a  Provencal  lute ;  while  a  low  voice, 
rich,  and  modulated  at  once  by  a  deep  feeling  and  an 
exquisite  art  that  would  have  g'ven  effect  to  even  simpler 
words,  breathed 

THE  LAY  OF  THE  HEIR  OF  LANCASTER. 

"  His  birthright  but  a  Father's  name, 
A  Grandsire's  hero-sword ; 
He  dwelt  within  the  Stranger's  land, 
The  friendless,  homeless  Lord  ! 

"  Yet  one  dear  hope,  too  dear  to  tell, 
Consoled  the  exiled  man  ; 
The  Angels  have  their  home  in  Heaven, 
And  gentle  thoughts  in  Anne." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         237 

At  that  name  the  voice  of  the  singer  trembled,  and 
paused  a  moment;  the  earl,  who  at  first  had  scarcely 
listened  to  what  he  deemed  but  the  ill-seasoned  gallantry 
of  one  of  the  royal  minstrels,  started  in  proud  surprise, 
and  Anne  herself,  tightening  her  clasp  round  her 
father's  neck,  burst  into  passionate  sobs.  The  eye 
of  the  countess  met  that  of  her  lord,  but  she  put  her 
finger  to  her  lips  in  sign  to  him  to  listen.  The  song  was 
resumed,  — 

"  Recall  the  single  sunny  time, 
In  childhood's  April  weather, 
When  he  and  thou,  the  boy  and  girl, 
Roved,  hand  in  hand,  together  ;  — 

"  When  round  thjr  young  companion  knelt 
The  Princes  of  the  Isle, 
And  Priest  and  People  prayed  their  God 
On  England's  Heir  to  smile." 

The  earl  uttered  a  half-stifled  exclamation,  but  the 
minstrel  heard  not  the  interruption,  and  continued,  — 

"  Methinks  the  sun  hath  never  smiled 
Upon  the  exiled  man, 
Like  that  bright  morning  when  the  boy 
Told  all  his  soul  to  Anne. 

"  No  ;  while  his  birthright  but  a  name, 
A  Grandsire's  hero-sword, 
He  would  not  woo  the  lofty  maid 
To  love  the  banished  lord. 

"  But  when,  with  clarion,  fife  and  drum, 
He  claims  and  wins  his  own  j 
When  o'er  the  Deluge  drifts  his  Ark, 
To  rest  upon  a  throne,  — 


238         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

"  Then,  wilt  thou  deign  to  hear  the  hope, 
That  blessed  the  exiled  man, 
When  pining  for  his  Father's  crown 
To  deck  the  brows  of  Anne  !  " 

The  song  ceased,  and  there  was  silence  within  the 
chamber,  broken  but  by  Anne's  low  yet  passionate 
weeping.  The  earl  gently  strove  to  disengage  her  arms 
from  his  neck,  but  she,  mistaking  his  intention,  sank 
on  her  knees,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands, 
exclaimed,  — 

"  Pardon  !  —  pardon  !  —  pardon  him,  if  not  me !  " 

"  What  have  I  to  pardon  1  What  hast  thou  concealed 
from  me  1  Can  I  think  that  thou  hast  met,  in  secret, 
one  who  —  " 

"In  secret!  Never,  never,  father!  This  is  the  third 
time  only  that  I  have  heard  his  voice  since  we  have  been 
at  Amboise,  save  when  —  save  when  —  " 

"Goon." 

"  Save  when  King  Louis  presented  him  to  me  in  the 

revel,  under  the  name  of  the  Count  de  F ,  and  he 

asked  me  if  I  could  forgive  his  mother  for  Lord  Clifford's 
crime. " 

"  It  is,  then,  as  the  rhyme  proclaimed ;  and  it  is 
Edward  of  Lancaster  who  loves  and  wooes  the  daughter 
of  Warwick !  " 

Something  in  her  father's  voice  made  Anne  remove 
her  hands  from  her  face,  and  look  up  to  him  with  a 
thrill  of  timid  joy.  Upon  his  brow,  indeed,  frowned  no 
anger,  —  upon  his  lip  smiled  no  scorn.  At  that  moment 
all  his  haughty  grief  at  the  curse  of  circumstance,  which 
drove  him  to  his  hereditary  foe,  had  vanished.  Though 
Montagu  had  obtained  from  Oxford  some  glimpse  of 
the  desire  which  the  more  sagacious  and  temperate 
Lancastrians    already  entertained  for  that    alliance,   and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS.         239 

though  Louis  had  already  hinted  its  expediency  to  the 
earl,  yet,  till  now,  Warwick  himself  had  naturally  con- 
ceived that  the  prince  shared  the  enmity  of  his  mother, 
and  that  such  an  union,  however  politic,  was  impossi- 
hle ;  but  now,  indeed,  there  burst  upon  him  the  full 
triumph  of  revenge  and  pride.  Edward  of  York  dared 
to  woo  Anne  to  dishonor,  —  Edward  of  Lancaster  dared 
not  even  woo  her  as  his  wife  till  his  crown  was  won  ! 
To  place  upon  the  throne  the  very  daughter  the  un- 
grateful monarch  had  insulted ;  to  make  her  he  would 
have  humbled  not  only  the  instrument  of  his  fall,  but 
the  successor  of  his  purple;  to  unite  in  one  glorious 
strife,  the  wrongs  of  tbe  man  and  the  pride  of  the 
father,  —  these  were  the  thoughts  that  sparkled  in  the 
eye  of  the  king-maker,  and  flushed  with  a  fierce  rap- 
ture the  dark  cheek,  already  hollowed  by  passion  and 
care.  He  raised  his  daughter  from  the  floor,  and  placed 
her  in  her  mother's  arms,  but  still  spoke  not. 

"  This,  then,  was  thy  secret,  Anne, "  whispered  the 
countess ;  "  and  I  half  foreguessed  it,  when,  last  night, 
I  knelt  beside  thy  couch  to  pray,  and  overheard  thee 
murmur  in  thy  dreams. " 

"  Sweet  mother,  thou  forgivest  me ;  but  my  father,  — 
ah,  he  speaks  not!  —  One  word!  Father,  father,  not 
even  his  love  could  console  me  if  I  angered  thee  !  " 

The  earl,  who  had  remained  rooted  to  the  spot,  his 
eyes  shining  thoughtfully  under  his  dark  brows,  and  his 
hand  slightly  raised,  as  if  piercing  into  the  future,  and 
mapping  out  its  airy  realm,  turned  quickly, — 

"I  go  to  the  heir  of  Lancaster;  if  this  boy  be  bold 
and  true, — .worthy  of  England  and  of  thee,  we  will 
change  the  sad  ditty  of  that  scrannel  lute  into  such  a 
storm  of  trumpets  as  beseems  the  triumph  of  a  conqueror, 
and  the  marriage  of  a  prince!  " 


240         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

How  the  Heir  of  Lancaster  meets  the  King-maker. 

In  truth,  the  young  prince,  in  obedience  to  a  secret 
message    from    the    artful    Louis,    had   repaired    to    the 

court  of  Amboise  under  the  name  of  the  Count  de  F . 

The  French  king  had  long  before  made  himself  ac- 
quainted with  Prince  Edward's  romantic  attachment  to 
the  earl's  daughter,  through  the  agent  employed  by 
Edward  to  transmit  his  portrait  to  Anne  at  Rouen ;  and 
from  him,  probably,  came  to  Oxford  the  suggestion 
which  that  nobleman  had  hazarded  to  Montagu;  and 
now  that  it  became  his  policy  seriously  and  earnestly  to 
espouse  the  cause  of  his  kinswoman  Margaret,  he  saw 
all  the  advantage  to  his  cold  statecraft ,  which  could  be 
drawn  from  a  boyish  love.  Louis  had  a  well-founded 
fear  of  the  warlike  spirit  and  military  talents  of  Edward 
IV.  ;  and  this  fear  had  induced  him  hitherto  to  refrain 
from  openly  espousing  the  cause  of  the  Lancastrians, 
though  it  did  not  prevent  his  abetting  such  seditions  and 
intrigues  as  could  confine  the  attention  of  the  martial 
Plantagenet  to  the  perils  of  his  own  realm.  But  now 
that  the  breach  between  Warwick  and  the  king  had 
taken  place ;  now  that  the  earl  could  no  longer  curb  the 
desire  of  the  Yorkist  monarch  to  advance  his  hereditary 
claims  to  the  fairest  provinces  of  France  —  nay,  perad- 
venture,  to  France  itself  —  while  the  defection  of  Lord 
Warwick  gave  to  the  Lancastrians  the  first  fair  hope  of 
success  in  urging  their  own  pretensions  to  the  English 
throne,  —  he  bent  all  the  powers  of  his  intellect  and  his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         241 

will  towards  the  restoration  of  a  natural  ally,  and  the 
downfall  of  a  dangerous  foe.  But  he  knew  that  Margaret 
and  her  Lancastrian  favorers  could  not  of  themselves 
suffice  to  achieve  a  revolution, —  that  they  could  only 
succeed  under  cover  of  the  popularity  and  the  power  of 
Warwick ;  while  he  perceived  all  the  art  it  would  require 
to  make  Margaret  forego  her  vindictive  nature  and  long 
resentment,  and  to  supple  the  pride  of  the  great  earl  into 
recognizing,  as  a  sovereign,  the  woman  who  had  branded 
him  as  a  traitor. 

Long  before  Lord  Oxford's  arrival,  Louis,  with  all 
that  address  which  belonged  to  him,  had  gradually  pre- 
pared the  earl  to  familiarize  himself  to  the  only  alterna- 
tive before  him,  save  that,  indeed,  of  powerless  sense  of 
wrong,  and  obscure  and  lasting  exile.  The  French  king 
looked  with  more  uneasiness  to  the  scruples  of  Margaret ; 
and  to  remove  these  he  trusted  less  to  his  own  skill, 
than  to  her  love  for  her  only  son. 

His  youth  passed  principally  in  Anjou, —  that  court 
of  minstrels,  —  young  Edward's  gallant  and  ardent  temper 
had  become  deeply  imbued  with  the  southern  poetry  and 
romance.  Perhaps,  the  very  feud  between  his  house 
and  Lord  Warwick's,  though  both  claimed  their  common 
descent  from  John  of  Gaunt,  had  tended,  by  the  contra- 
dictions in  the  human  heart,  to  endear  to  him  the  recol- 
lection of  the  gentle  Anne.  He  obeyed  with  joy  the 
summons  of  Louis,  repaired  to  the  court,  was  presented 
to  Anne  as  the  Count  de  F ,  found  himself  recog- 
nized at  the  first  glance  (for  his  portrait  still  lay  upon 
her  heart,  as  his  remembrance  in  its  core),  and,  twice 
before  the  song  we  have  recited,  had  ventured,  agreeably 
to  the  sweet  customs  of  Anjou,  to  address  the  lady  of 
his  love,  under  the  shade  of  the  starlit  and  summer 
copses.     But,  on  this  last  occasion,  he  had  departed  from 

VOL.  II.  — 16 


242         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS. 

his  former  discretion ;  hitherto  he  had  selected  an  hour 
of  deeper  night,  and  ventured  but  beneath  the  lattice  of 
the  maiden's  chamber  when  the  rest  of  the  palace  was 
hushed  in  sleep.  And  the  fearless  declaration  of  his 
rank  and  love  now  hazarded,  was  prompted  by  one  who 
contrived  to  turn  to  grave  uses  the  wildest  whim  of  the 
minstrel,  the  most  romantic  enthusiasm  of  youth. 

Louis  had  just  learned  from  Oxford  the  result  of  his 
interview  with  Warwick ;  and  about  the  same  time  the 
French  king  had  received  a  letter  from  Margaret,  an- 
nouncing her  departure  from  the  Castle  of  Verdun  for 
Tours,  where  she  prayed  him  to  meet  her  forthwith, 
and  stating  that  she  had  received  from  England  tidings 
that  might  change  all  her  schemes,  and  more  than  ever 
forbid  the  possibility  of  a  reconciliation  with  the  Earl  of 
Warwick. 

The  king  perceived  the  necessity  of  calling  into  im- 
mediate effect  the  aid  on  which  he  had  relied,  in  the 
presence  and  passion  of  the  young  prince.  He  sought 
him  at  once,  —  lie  found  him  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
gardens,  and  overheard  him  breathing  to  himself  the  lay 
he  had  just  composed. 

"  Pasque  Dieu !  "  said  the  king,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  young  man's  shoulder, —  "if  thou  wilt  but  repeat 
that  song  where  and  when  I  bid  thee,  I  promise  that, 
before  the  month  ends,  Lord  Warwick  shall  pledge  thee 
his  daughter's  hand;  and,  before  the  year  is  closed, 
thou  shalt  sit  beside  Lord  Warwick's  daughter  in  the 
halls  of  Westminster." 

And  the  royal  troubadour  took  the  counsel  of  the 
king. 

The  song  had  ceased;  the  minstrel  emerged  from  the 
bosquets,  and  stood  upon  the  sward,  as,  from  the  postern 
of  the   palace,    walked   with   a   slow   step,   a  form  from 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         243 

which  it  hecame  him  not,  as  prince  or  as  lover,  in  peace 
or  in  war,  to  shrink.  The  first  stars  had  now  risen ;  the 
light,  though  serene,  was  pale  and  dim.  The  two  men 
—  the  one  advancing,  the   other   motionless  —  gazed  on 

each  other  in  grave  silence.     As  Count  de  F ,  amidst 

the  young  nohles  in  the  king's  train,  the  earl  had  scarcely 
noticed  the  heir  of  England.  He  viewed  him  now  with 
a  different  eye :  —  in  secret  complacency,  for,  with  a 
soldier's  weakness,  the  soldier  baron  valued  men  too  much 
for  their  outward  seeming,  —  he  surveyed  a  figure  already 
masculine  and  stalwart,  though  still  in  the  graceful  sym- 
metry of  fair  eighteen. 

"  A  youth  of  a  goodly  presence, "  muttered  the  earl, 
"  with  the  dignity  that  commands  in  peace,  and  the 
sinews  that  can  strive  against  hardship  and  death  in 
war. " 

He  approached,  and  said,  calmly,  "  Sir  minstrel,  he 
who  wooes  either  fame  or  beauty  may  love  the  lute,  but 
should  wield  the  sword.  At  least,  so,  methinks,  had 
the  Fifth  Henry  said  to  him  who  boasts  for  his  heritage 
the  sword  of  Agincourt." 

"Oh,  noble  earl!"  exclaimed  the  prince,  touched  by 
words  far  gentler  than  he  had  dared  to  hope,  despite 
his  bold  and  steadfast  mien,  and  giving  way  to  frank 
and  graceful  emotion,  — "  oh  noble  earl !  since  thou 
knowest  me, —  since  my  secret  is  told,  since,  in  that 
secret,  I  have  proclaimed  a  hope  as  dear  to  me  as  a 
crown,  and  dearer  far  than  life,  can  I  hope  that  thy 
rebuke  but  veils  thy  favor,  and  that,  under  Lord 
Warwick's  eye,  the  grandson  of  Henry  V.  shall  ap- 
prove himself  worthy  of  the  blood  that  kindles  in  his 
veins  1  " 

"  Fair  sir  and  prince, "  returned  the  earl,  whose  hardy 
and   generous  nature   the  emotion   and  fire  of  Edward 


244         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

warmed  and  charmed,  "  there  are,  alas  !  deep  memories 
of  hlood  and  wrong, —  the  sad  deeds  and  wrathful  words 
of  party  feud  and  civil  war,  between  thy  royal  mother 
and  myself;  and,  though  we  may  unite  now  against  a 
common  foe,  much  I  fear  that  the  Lady  Margaret  would 
brook  ill  a  closer  friendship,  a  nearer  tie  than  the 
exigency  of  the  hour,  between  Richard  ISTevile  and  her 
son." 

"No,  sir  earl;  let  me  hope  you  misthink  her.  Hot 
and  impetuous,  but  not  mean  and  treacherous,  the  mo- 
ment that  she  accepts  the  service  of  thine  arm  she  must 
forget  that  thou  hast  been  her  foe;  and  if  I,  as  my 
father's  heir,  return  to  England,  it  is  in  the  trust  that 
a  new  era  will  commence.  Free  from  the  passionate 
enmities  of  either  faction,  Yorkist  and  Lancastrian  are 
but  Englishmen  to  me.  Justice  to  all  who  serve  us,  — 
pardon  for  all  who  have  opposed." 

The  prince  paused,  and,  even  in  the  dim  light,  his 
kingly  aspect  gave  effect  to  his  kingly  words.  "  And  if 
this  resolve  be  such  as  you  approve, —  if  you,  great  earl, 
be  that  which  even  your  foes  proclaim,  a  man  whose 
power  depends  less  on  lands  and  vassals  —  broad  though 
the  one,  and  numerous  though  the  other  —  than  on  well- 
known  love  for  England,  her  glory,  and  her  peace,  it 
rests  with  you  to  bury,  forever,  in  one  grave,  the  feuds 
of  Lancaster  and  York!  What  Yorkist,  who  hath 
fought  at  Touton  or  St.  Alban's,  under  Lord  War- 
wick's standard,  will  lift  sword  against  the  husband  of 
Lord  Warwick's  daughter?  what  Lancastrian  will  not 
forgive  a  Yorkist,  when  Lord  Warwick,  the  kinsman  of 
Duke  Richard,  becomes  father  to  the  Lancastrian  heir, 
and  bulwark  to  the  Lancastrian  throne  ?  Oh,  Warwick, 
if  not  for  my  sake,  nor  for  the  sake  of  full  redress 
against  the  ingrate  whom  thou  repentest  to  have  placed 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         245 

on  my  father's  throne,  at  least  for  the  sake  of  England, 
—  for  the  healing  of  her  bleeding  wounds ;  for  the  union 
of  her  divided  people,  hear  the  grandson  of  Henry  V., 
who  sues  to  thee  for  thy  daughter's  hand !  " 

The  royal  wooer  bent  his  knee  as  he  spoke,  — the 
mighty  subject  saw  and  prevented  the  impulse  of  the 
prince,  who  had  forgotten  himself  in  the  lover;  the  hand 
which  he  caught  he  lifted  to  his  lips,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment, in  manly  and  soldier-like  embrace,  the  prince's 
young  arm  was  thrown  over  the  broad  shoulder  of  the 
king-maker. 


246         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Interview  of  Earl  Warwick  and  Queen  Margaret. 

Louis  hastened  to  meet  Margaret  at  Tours;  thither 
came,  also,  her  father  Rene,  her  brother  John  of 
Calabria,  Yolante  her  sister,  and  the  Count  of  Vaude- 
monte.  The  meeting  between  the  queen  and  Rene 
was  so  touching  as  to  have  drawn  tears  to  the  hard 
eyes  of  Louis  XL  ;  but,  that  emotion  over,  Margaret 
evinced  how  little  affliction  had  humbled  her  high 
spirit,  or  softened  her  angry  passions:  she  interrupted 
Louis  in  every  argument  for  reconciliation  with  War- 
wick. "Not  with  honor  to  myself,  and  to  my  son," 
she  exclaimed,  "  can  I  pardon  that  cruel  earl,  —  the 
main  cause  of  King  Henry's  downfall!  in  vain  patch 
up  a  hollow  peace  between  us, —  a  peace  of  form  and 
parchment !  My  spirit  never  can  be  contented  with 
him,  ne  pardon!  " 

For  several  days  she  maintained  a  language  which 
betrayed  the  chief  cause  of  her  own  impolitic  passions, 
that  had  lost  her  crown.  Showing  to  Louis  the  letter 
despatched  to  her,  proffering  the  hand  of  the  Lady 
Elizabeth  to  her  son,  she  asked  "  if  that  were  not  a 
more  profitable  party, " 1  and,  "  if  it  were  necessary  that 
she  should  forgive, —  whether  it  were  not  more  queenly 
to  treat  with  Edward  than  with  a  twofold  rebel  ?  " 

1  See,  for  this  curious  passage  of  secret  history,  Sir  H.  Ellis's 
"  Original  Letters  from  the  Harleian  MSS.,"  second  series,  vol.  i., 
letter  42. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         247 

In  fact,  the  queen  would,  perhaps,  have  fallen  into 
Gloucester's  artful  snare,  despite  all  the  arguments  and 
even  the  half-menaces  l  of  the  more  penetrating  Louis, 
but  for  a  counteracting  influence  which  Richard  had 
not  reckoned  upon.  Prince  Edward,  who  had  lingered 
behind  Louis,  arrived  from  Amboise,  and  his  persua- 
sions did  more  than  all  the  representations  of  the 
crafty  king.  The  queen  loved  her  son  with  that  in- 
tenseness  which  characterizes  the  one  soft  affection  of 
violent  natures.  Never  had  she  yet  opposed  his  most 
childish  whim,  and  now  he  spoke  with  the  eloquence 
of  one  who  put  his  heart  and  his  life's  life  into  his 
words.  At  last,  reluctantly,  she  consented  to  an  in- 
terview with  Warwick.  The  earl,  accompanied  by 
Oxford,  arrived  at  Tours,  and  the  two  nobles  were 
led  into  the  presence  of  Margaret  by  King  Louis. 

The  reader  will  picture  to  himself  a  room  darkened 
by  thick  curtains,  drawn  across  the  casement,  for  the 
proud  woman  wished  not  the  earl  to  detect  on  her  face 
either  the  ravages  of  years,  or  the  emotions  of  offended 
pride.  In  a  throne-chair,  placed  on  the  dais,  sat  the 
motionless  queen,  her  hands  clasping,  convulsively,  the 
arms  of  the  fauteuil,  her  features  pale  and  rigid ;  —  and 
behind  the  chair  leaned  the  graceful  figure  of  her  son. 
The  person  of  the  Lancastrian  prince  was  little  less 
remarkable  than  that  of  his  hostile  namesake,  but  its 
character  was  distinctly  different. 2    Spare,  like  Henry  V., 

1  Louis  would  have  thrown  over  Margaret's  cause,  it'  Warwick 
had  demanded  it ;  he  instructed  MM  de  Concressault  aud  I)u 
Plessis  to  assure  the  earl  that  he  would  aid  him  to  the  utmost  to 
reconquer  England,  either  for  the  Queen  Margaret  or  for  any  one 
else  he  chose  (on  pour  qui  il  voudra) :  for  that  he  loved  the  earl 
better  than  Margaret  or  her  son.  —  Brante,  t.  ix.  276. 

2  "  According  to  some  of  the  French  chroniclers,  the  Prince  of 
Wales,    who  was  one  of  the  handsomest  aud  most  accomplished 


248         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

almost  to  the  manly  defect  of  leanness,  his  propor- 
tions were  slight  to  those  which  gave  such  portly 
majesty  to  the  vast-chested  Edward,  but  they  evinced 
the  promise  of  almost  equal  strength;  the  muscles 
hardened  to  iron  by  early  exercise  in  arms,  the  sap 
of  youth  never  wasted  by  riot  and  debauch,  his  short 
purple  manteline,  trimmed  with  ermine,  was  embroi- 
dered with  his  grandfather's  favorite  device,  "  the  silver 
swan ;  "  he  wore  on  his  breast  the  badge  of  St.  George, 
and  the  single  ostrich  plume,  which  made  his  cognizance 
as  Prince  of  Wales,  waved  over  a  fair  and  ample  fore- 
head, on  which  were,  even  then,  traced  the  lines  of 
musing  thought  and  high  design*,  his  chestnut  hair 
curled  close  to  his  noble  head;  his  eye  shone  dark  and 
brilliant,  beneath  the  deep-set  brow,  which  gives  to  the 
human  countenance  such  expression  of  energy  and  in- 
tellect, —  all  about  him,  in  aspect  and  mien,  seemed  to 
betoken  a  mind  riper  than  his  years,  a  masculine  sim- 
plicity of  taste  and  bearing,  the  earnest  and  grave  tem- 
perament, mostly  allied,  in  youth,  to  pure  and  elevated 
desires,  to  an  honorable  and  chivalric  soul. 

Below  the  dais  stood  some  of  the  tried  and  gallant 
gentlemen  who  had  braved  exile  and  tasted  penury  in 
their  devotion  to  the  House  of  Lancaster,  and  who  had 
now  flocked  once  more  round  their  queen,  in  the  hope 
of  better  days.  There,  were  the  Dukes  of  Exeter  and 
Somerset,  their  very  garments  soiled  and  threadbare, — 
many  a  day  had  those  great  lords  hungered  for  the 
beggar's  crust!  *     There,  stood  Sir  John  Fortescue,  the 

princes  in  Europe,  was  very  desirous  of  becoming  the  husband  of 
Anne  Nevile,"  etc.  —  Miss  Strickland,  "T_ife  of  Margaret  of 
Anjou." 

1  Philip  de  Comines  says  he  himself  had  seen  the  Pukes  of 
Exeter  and  Somerset  in  the  Low  Countries  in  as  wretched  a  plight 
a?  common  beggars. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  249 

patriarch  authority  of  our  laws,  who  had  composed  his 
famous  treatise  for  the  benefit  of  the  young  prince,  over- 
fond  of  exercise  with  lance  and  brand,  and  the  recreation 
of  knightly  song.  There,  were  Jasper  of  Pembroke, 
and  Sir  Henry  Rous,  and  the  Earl  of  Devon,  and  the 
Knight  of  Lytton,  whose  house  had  followed,  from  sire 
to  son,  the  fortunes  of  the  Lancastrian  Rose ;  *  and,  con- 
trasting the  sober  garments  of  the  exiles,  shone  the  jewels 
and  cloth  of  gold  that  decked  the  persons  of  the  more 
prosperous  foreigners,  Ferri,  Count  of  Vaudemonte, 
Margaret's  brother,  the  Duke  of  Calabria,  and  the 
powerful  form  of  Sir  Pierre  de  Breze,  who  had  accom- 
panied Margaret  in  her  last  disastrous  campaigns,  with 
all  the  devotion  of  a  chevalier  for  the  lofty  lady  adored 
in  secret.2 

When  the  door  opened,  and  gave  to  the  eyes  of  those 
proud  exiles  the  form  of  their  puissant  enemy,  they  with 
difficulty  suppressed  the  murmur  of  their  resentment, 
and  their  looks  turned  with  sympathy  and  grief  to  the 
hueless  face  of  their  queen. 

The  earl  himself  was  troubled,  —  his  step  was  less  firm, 
his  crest  less  haughty,   his  eye  less  serenely  steadfast. 

1  Sir  Robert  de  Lytton  (whose  grandfather  had  been  Comp- 
troller to  the  Household  of  Henry  IV.,  and  Agister  of  the  Forests 
allotted  to  Queen  Joan)  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  knights  of 
the  time,  and  afterwards,  according  to  Perkin  Warbec-k,  one  of 
the  ministers  most  trusted  by  Henry  VII.  He  was  lord  of  Lyt- 
ton, in  Derbyshire  (where  his  ancestors  had  been  settled  since  the 
Conquest),  of  Knebworth  in  Herts  (the  ancient  seat  and  manor  of 
Plantagenet  de  Brotherton,  Earl  of  Norfolk  and  Earl-Marshal), 
of  Myndelesden  and  Langley,  of  Standyarn,  Dene,  and  Brekes- 
borne,  in  Northamptonshire,  and  became,  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
VII.,  Privy-Councillor,  Under-Treasurer,  and  Keeper  of  the  great 
Wardrobe. 

2  See  for  the  chivalrous  devotion  of  this  knight  (Seneschal  of 
Normandy)  to  Margaret,  Miss  Strickland's  Life  of  that  queen. 


250         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

But  beside  him,  in  a  dress  more  homely  than  that  of 
the  poorest  exile  there,  and  in  a  garb  and  in  aspect,  as 
he  lives  forever  in  the  portraiture  of  Victor  Hugo  and 
our  own  yet  greater  Scott,  moved  Louis,  popularly  called 
"The  Fell." 

"  Madame  and  cousin, "  said  the  king,  "  we  present 
to  you  the  man  for  whose  haute  courage  and  dread  fame 
we  have  such  love  and  respect  that  we  value  him  as 
much  as  any  king,  and  would  do  as  much  for  him  as  for 
man  living ; 1  and  with  my  lord  of  Warwick,  see  also 
this  noble  Earl  of  Oxford,  who,  though  he  may  have 
sided  a  while  with  the  enemies  of  your  Highness,  comes 
now  to  pray  your  pardon,  and  to  lay  at  your  feet  his 
sword. " 

Lord  Oxford  (who  had  ever  unwillingly  acquiesced  in 
the  Yorkist  dynasty),  more  prompt  than  Warwick,  here 
threw  himself  on  his  knees  before  Margaret,  and  his 
tears  fell  on  her  hand,  as  he  murmured  "  Pardon. " 

"Rise,  Sir  John  de  Vere,"  said  the  queen,  glancing, 
with  a  flashing  eye,  from  Oxford  to  Lord  Warwick. 
"  Your  pardon  is  right  easy  to  purchase,  for  well  I  know 
that  you  yielded  but  to  the  time :  you  did  not  turn  the 
time  against  us,  —  you  and  yours  have  suffered  much  for 
King  Henry's  cause.     Rise,  Sir  Earl." 

"  And, "  said  a  voice,  so  deep  and  so  solemn,  that  it 
hushed  the  very  breath  of  those  who  heard  it, —  "and 
has  Margaret  a  pardon  also  for  the  man  who  did  more 
than  all  others  to  dethrone  King  Henry,  and  can  do 
more  than  all  to  restore  his  crown  ?  " 

"  Ha !  "  cried  Margaret,  rising  in  her  passion,  and 
casting  from  her  the  hand  her  son  had  placed  upon  her 
shoulder,  —  "  ha!  Ownest  thou  thy  wrongs,  proud  lord? 
Comest  thou  at  last  to  kneel  at  Queen  Margaret's  feet  ? 

1  Ellis's  "  Original  Letters,"  vol.  i.,  letter  42,  second  series. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         251 

Look  round  and  behold  her  court:  some  half-score  brave 
and  unhappy  gentlemen  driven  from  their  hearths  and 
homes;  their  heritage  the  prey  of  knaves  and  varlets; 
their  sovereign  in  a  prison ;  their  sovereign's  wife,  their 
sovereign's  son,  persecuted  and  hunted  from  the  soil ! 
And  comest  thou  now  to  the  forlorn  majesty  of  sorrow 
to  boast,   '  Such  deeds  were  mine  1 '  " 

"  Mother  and  lady, "  began  the  prince,  — 
"  Madden  me  not,   my   son.      Forgiveness    is  for  the 
prosperous,   not  for  adversity  and  woe." 

"  Hear  me,"  said  the  earl, —  who,  having  once  bowed 
his  pride  to  the  interview,  had  steeled  himself  against 
the  passion  which,  in  his  heart,  he  somewhat  despised 
as  a  mere  woman's  burst  of  inconsiderate  fury, —  "  for  I 
have  this  right  to  be  heard, —  that  not  one  of  these 
knights,  your  lealest  and  noblest  friends,  can  say  of  me, 
that  I  ever  stooped  to  gloss  mine  acts,  or  palliate  bold 
deeds  with  wily  words.  Dear  to  me  as  comrade  in  arms, 
■ —  sacred  to  me  as  a  father's  head,  was  Richard  of  York, 
mine  uncle  by  marriage  with  Lord  Salisbury's  sister.  I 
speak  not  now  of  his  claims  by  descent  (for  those  even 
King  Henry  could  not  deny) ,  but  I  maintain  them,  even 
in  your  Grace's  presence,  to  be  such  as  vindicate,  from 
disloyalty  and  treason,  me  and  the  many  true  and  gallant 
men  who  upheld  them  through  danger,  by  field  and 
scaffold.  Error  it  might  be,  —  but  the  error  of  men  who 
believed  themselves  the  defenders  of  a  just  cause.  Nor 
did  I,  Queen  Margaret,  lend  myself  wholly  to  my  kins- 
man's  quarrel,  nor  share  one  scheme  that  went  to  the 
dethronement  of  King  Henry,  until  —  pardon,  if  I  speak 
bluntly ;  it  is  my  wont,  and  would  be  more  so  now,  but 
for  thy  fair  face  and  woman's  form,  which  awe  me  more 
than  if  confronting  the  frown  of  Cceur  de  Lion,  or  the 
first  great  Edward :  pardon  me,  I  say,  if  I  speak  bluntly, 


252         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

and  aver,  that  I  was  not  King  Henry's  foe  until  false 
counsellors  had  planned  my  destruction,  in  hody  and 
goods,  land  and  life.  In  the  midst  of  peace,  at  Coventry, 
my  father  and  myself  scarcely  escaped  the  knife  of  the 
murderer.1  In  the  streets  of  London,  the  very  menials 
and  hangmen  employed  in  the  service  of  your  Highness 
beset  me  unarmed;2  a  little  time  after,  and  my  name 
was  attainted  by  an  illegal  Parliament.3  And  not  till 
after  these  things  did  Richard  Duke  of  York  ride  to  the 
Hall  of  Westminster,  and  lay  his  hand  upon  the  throne; 
nor  till  after  these  things  did  I  and  my  father  Salisbury 
say  to  each  other,  '  The  time  has  come  when  neither 
peace  nor  honor  can  be  found  for  us  under  King  Henry's 
reign.'  Blame  me,  if  you  will,  Queen  Margaret;  reject 
me,  if  you  need  not  my  sword;  but  that  which  I  did  in 
the  gone  days  was  such  as  no  nobleman  so  outraged  and 
despaired, 4  would  have  forborne  to  do ;  —  remembering 
that  England  is  not  the  heritage  of  the  king  alone,  but 
that  safety  and  honor,  and  freedom  and  justice,  are  the 
rights  of  his  Norman  gentlemen  and  his  Saxon  people. 
And  rights  are  a  mockery  and  a  laughter  if  they  do  not 
justify  resistance,  whensoever,  and  by  whomsoever,  they 
are  invaded  and  assailed." 

It  had  been  with  a  violent  effort  that  Margaret  had 
refrained  from  interrupting  this  address,  which  had, 
however,  produced  no  inconsiderable  effect  upon  the 
knightly  listeners  around  the  dais.  And  now,  as  the 
earl  ceased,  her  indignation  was  arrested  by  dismay  on 

1  See  Hall  (236),  who  says  that  Margaret  had  laid  a  snare  for 
Salisbury  and  Warwick,  at  Warwick,  and  "  if  they  had  not  sud- 
denly departed,  their  life's  thread  had  been  broken." 

2  Hall,  Fabyan. 

3  Pari.  Rolls,  370  ;  W.  Wtr,  478. 

*  Warwick's  phrase  :  —  See  Sir  H.  Ellis's  "  Original  Letters," 
vol.  i.,  second  series. 


THE  LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  253 

seeing  the  young  prince  suddenly  leave  his  post  and 
advance  to  the  side  of  Warwick. 

"  Right  well  hast  thou  spoken ,  noble  earl  and  cousin, 

—  right  well,  though  right  plainly.  And  I, "  added  the 
prince,  "  saving  the  presence  of  my  queen  and  mother, 

—  I,  the  representative  of  my  sovereign  father,  in  his 
name  will  pledge  thee  a  king's  oblivion  and  pardon  for 
the  past,  if  thou,  on  thy  side,  acquit  my  princely  mother 
of  all  privity  to  the  snares  against  thy  life  and  honor 
of  which  thou  hast  spoken,  and  give  thy  knightly  word 
to  be  henceforth  leal  to  Lancaster.  Perish  all  memories 
of  the  past  that  can  make  walls  between  the  souls  of 
brave  men  !  " 

Till  this  moment,  his  arms  folded  in  his  gown,  his 
thin,  foxdike  face  bent  to  the  ground,  Louis  had  lis- 
tened, silent  and  undisturbed.  He  now  deemed  it  the 
moment  to  second  the  appeal  of  the  prince.  Passing 
his  hand  hypocritically  over  his  tearless  eyes,  the  king 
turned  to  Margaret,   and  said,  — 

"  Joyful  hour  !  —  happy  union  !  —  May  Madame  La 
Vierge  and  Monseigneur  St.  Martin  sanctify  and  hallow 
the  bond  by  which  alone  my  beloved  kinswoman  can 
regain  her  rights  and  roiaulme.      Amen." 

Unheeding  this  pious  ejaculation,  her  bosom  heaving, 
her  eyes  wandering  from  the  earl  to  Edward,  Margaret 
at  last  gave  vent  to  her  passion. 

"  And  is  it  come  to  this,  Prince  Edward  of  Wales, 
that  thy  mother's  wrongs  are  not  thine?  Standest  thou 
side  by  side  with  my  mortal  foe,  who,  instead  of  repent- 
ing treason,  dares  but  to  complain  of  injury?  Am  I 
fallen  so  low  that  my  voice  to  pardon  or  disdain  is 
counted  but  as  a  sough  of  idle  air  ?  God  of  my  fathers, 
hear  me!  Willingly  from  my  heart  I  tear  the  last 
thought  and  care  for   the  pomps   of  earth.      Hateful  to 


254         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

me  a  crown  for  which  the  wearer  must  cringe  to  enemy 
and  rehel !  Away,  Earl  Warwick  !  Monstrous  and 
unnatural  seems  it  to  the  wife  of  captive  Henry  to  see 
thee  by  the  side  of  Henry's  son!" 

Every  eye  turned  in  fear  to  the  aspect  of  the  earl, 
every  ear  listened  for  the  answer  which  might  he  expected 
from  his  well-known  heat  and  pride, —  an  answer  to 
destroy  forever  the  last  hope  of  the  Lancastrian  line. 
But  whether  it  was  the  very  consciousness  of  his  power 
to  raise  or  to  crush  that  fiery  speaker,  or  those  feelings 
natural  to  brave  men,  half  of  chivalry,  half  contempt, 
which  kept  down  the  natural  anger  by  thoughts  of  the 
sex  and  sorrows  of  the  Anjouite,  or  that  the  wonted 
irascibility  of  his  temper  had  melted  into  one  steady 
and  profound  passion  of  revenge  against  Edward  of 
York,  which  absorbed  all  lesser  and  more  trivial  causes 
of  resentment, —  the  earl's  face,  though  pale  as  the  dead, 
was  unmoved  and  calm,  and,  with  a  grave  and  melan- 
choly smile,    he  answered, — 

"  More  do  I  respect  thee,  0  queen,  for  the  hot  words 
which  show  a  truth  rarely  heard  from  royal  lips,  than 
hadst  thou  deigned  to  dissimulate  the  forgiveness  and 
kindly  charity  which  sharp  remembrance  permits  thee 
not  to  feel!  No,  princely  Margaret,  not  yet  can  there 
be  frank  amity  between  thee  and  me!  Nor  do  I  boast 
the  affection  yon  gallant  gentlemen  have  displayed. 
Frankly,  as  thou  hast  spoken,  do  I  say,  that  the  wrongs 
I  have  suffered  from  another  alone  move  me  to  allegiance 
to  thyself  !  Let  others  serve  thee  for  love  of  Henry, 
reject  not  my  service,  given  but  for  revenge  on  Edward, 
—  as  much,  henceforth,  am  I  his  foe  as  formerly  his 
friend  and  maker!  l  And  if,  hereafter,  on  the  throne, 
thou  shouldst  remember  and  resent  the  former  wars,    at 

1  Sir  H.  Ellis's  "  Original  Letters,"  vol.  i.,  second  series. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         255 

least  thou  hast  owed  me  no  gratitude,  and  thou  canst 
not  grieve  my  heart,  and  seethe  my  brain,  as  the  man 
whom  I  once  loved  better  than  a  son!  Thus,  from 
thy  presence  I  depart,  chafing  not  at  thy  scornful  wrath, 
—  mindful,  young  prince,  but  of  thy  just  and  gentle 
heart,  and  sure,  in  the  calm  of  my  own  soul  (on  which 
this  much,  at  least,  of  our  destiny  is  reflected  as  on  a 
glass),  that  when,  high  lady,  thy  colder  sense  returns 
to  thee,  thou  wilt  see  that  the  league  between  us  must 
be  made !  —  that  thine  ire,  as  woman,  must  fade  before 
thy  duties  as  a  mother,  thy  affection  as  a  wife,  and  thy 
paramount  and  solemn  obligations  to  the  people  thou 
hast  ruled  as  queen !  In  the  dead  of  night,  thou  shalt 
hear  the  voice  of  Henry,  in  his  prison,  asking  Margaret 
to  set  him  free !  The  vision  of  thy  son  shall  rise  before 
thee  in  his  bloom  and  promise,  to  demand,  'Why  his 
mother  deprives  him  of  a  crown?'  and  crowds  of  pale 
peasants,  grinded  beneath  tyrannous  exaction,  and 
despairing  fathers  mourning  for  dishonored  children, 
shall  ask  the  Christian  queen,  'If  God  will  sanction 
the  unreasoning  wrath  which  rejects  the  only  instrument 
that  can  redress  her  people  1 '  " 

This  said,  the  earl  bowed  his  head,  and  turned;  but, 
at  the  first  sign  of  his  departure,  there  was  a  general 
movement  among  the  noble  bystanders:  impressed  by 
the  dignity  of  his  bearing,  by  the  greatness  of  his  power, 
and  by  the  unquestionable  truth  that  in  rejecting  him 
Margaret  cast  away  the  heritage  of  her  son,  the  exiles, 
with  a  common  impulse,  threw  themselves  at  their 
queen's  feet,  and  exclaimed,  almost  in  the  same  words, — 

"Grace!  noble  queen!  —  Grace  for  the  great  Lord 
Warwick !  " 

"My  sister,"  whispered  John  of  Calabria,  "thou  art 
thy  son's  ruin  if  the  earl  depart  !  " 


256         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

u  Pasqxie  Dieu !  Vex  not  my  kinswoman.  If  she 
prefer  a  convent  to  a  throne,  cross  not  the  holy  choice!  " 
said  the  wily  Louis,  with  a  mocking  irony  on  his 
pinched  lips. 

The  prince  alone  spoke  not,  but  stood  proudly  on  the 
same  spot,  gazing  on  the  earl,  as  he  slowly  moved  to 
the  door. 

"Oh,  Edward  —  Edward,  my  son!"  exclaimed  the 
unhappy  Margaret,  "if  for  thy  sake  —  for  thine  —  I 
must  make  the  past  a  blank,  speak  thou  for  me !  " 

"  I  have  spoken,"  said  the  prince,  gently,  "  and  thou 
didst  chide  me,  noble  mother;  yet  I  spoke,  methinks, 
as  Henry  V.  had  done,  if  of  a  mighty  enemy  he  had 
had  the  power  to  make  a  noble  friend." 

A  short  convulsive  sob  was  heard  from  the  throne- 
chair;  and  as  suddenly  as  it  burst  it  ceased.  Queen 
Margaret  rose,  —  not  a  trace  of  that  stormy  emotion 
upon  the  grand  and  marble  beauty  of  her  face.  Her 
voice,  unnaturally  calm,  arrested  the  steps  of  the 
departing  earl. 

"  Lord  Warwick,  defend  this  boy:  restore  his  rights, 
release  his  sainted  father,  —  and  for  years  of  anguish 
and  of  exile,  Margaret  of  Anjou  forgives  the  champion 
of  her  son !  " 

In  an  instant  Prince  Edward  was  again  by  the  earl's 
side,  —  a  moment  more,  and  the  earl's  proud  knee  bent 
in  homage  to  the  queen ;  joyful  tears  were  in  the  eyes 
of  her  friends  and  kindred,  a  triumphant  smile  on  the 
lips  of  Louis;  and  Margaret's  face,  terrible  in  its  stony 
and  locked  repose,  was  raised  above,  as  if  asking  the 
All-Merciful  pardon, — for  the  pardon  which  the  human 
sinner  had  bestowed! 1 

1  Ellis's  "  Original  Letters  from  the  Harleian  MSS.,"  letter  42. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.        257 


CHAPTER  X. 

Love  and  Marriage  —  Doubts  of  Conscience  —  Domestic  Jealousy 
—  and  Household  Treason. 

The  events  that  followed  this  tempestuous  interview 
were  such  as  the  position  of  the  parties  necessarily 
compelled.  The  craft  of  Louis,  the  energy  and  love 
of  Prince  Edward,  the  representations  of  all  her  kin- 
dred and  friends,  conquered,  though  not  without  repeated 
struggles,  Margaret's  repugnance  to  a  nearer  union  be- 
tween Warwick  and  her  son.  The  earl  did  not  deign 
to  appear  personally  in  this  matter.  He  left  it,  as 
became  him,  to  Louis  and  the  prince,  and  finally 
received  from  them  the  proposals,  which  ratified  the 
league,  and  consummated  the  schemes  of  his  revenge. 

Upon  the  Very  Cross1  in  St.  Mary's  Church  of 
Angers,  Lord  Warwick  swore  without  change  to  hold 
the  party  of  King  Henry.  Before  the  same  sacred 
symbol,  King  Louis  and  his  brother,  Duke  of  Guienne, 
robed  in  canvas,  swore  to  sustain  to  their  utmost  the 
Earl  of  Warwick  in  behalf  of  King  Henry ;  and  Mar- 
garet recorded  her  oath  "  to  treat  the  earl  as  true  and 
faithful,  and  never  for  deeds  past  to  make  him  any 
reproach. " 

Then  were  signed  the  articles  of  marriage  between 
Prince   Edward   and   the    Lady   Anne:    the    latter   to 

1  Miss  Strickland  observes  upon  this  interview,  —  "  It  does  not 
appear  that  Warwick  mentioned  the  execution  of  his  father,  the 
Earl  of  Salisbury,  which  is  almost  a  confirmation  of  the  state- 
ments of  those  historians  who  deny  that  he  was  beheaded  by 
Margaret." 

VOL.  II.  — 17 


258         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

remain  with  Margaret,  but  the  marriage  not  to  be  con- 
summated "  till  Lord  Warwick  had  entered  England 
and  regained  tbe  realm,  or  most  part,  for  King  Henry," 
—  a  condition  which  pleased  the  earl,  who  desired  to 
award  his  beloved  daughter  no  less  a  dowry  than  a 
crown. 

An  article  far  more  important  than  all  to  the  safety 
of  the  earl,  and  to  the  permanent  success  of  the  enter- 
prise, was  one  that  virtually  took  from  the  fierce  and 
unpopular  Margaret  the  reins  of  government,  by  con- 
stituting Prince  Edward  (whose  qualities  endeared  him 
more  and  more  to  Warwick,  and  were  such  as  promised 
to  command  the  respect  and  love  of  the  people)  sole 
regent  of  all  the  realm,  upon  attaining  his  majority. 
For  the  Duke  of  Clarence  were  reserved  all  the  lands 
and  dignities  of  the  duchy  of  York,  the  right  to  the 
succession  of  the  throne  to  him  and  his  posterity  — 
failing  male  heirs  to  the  Prince  of  Wales  —  with  a 
private  pledge  of  the  viceroyalty  of  Ireland. 

Margaret  had  attached  to  her  consent  one  condition 
highly  obnoxious  to  her  high-spirited  son,  and  to  which 
he  was  only  reconciled  by  the  arguments  of  Warwick; 
she  stipulated  that  he  should  not  accompany  the  earl  to 
England,  nor  appear  there  till  his  father  was  proclaimed 
king.  In  this,  no  doubt,  she  was  guided  by  maternal 
fears  and  by  some  undeclared  suspicion,  either  of  the 
good  faith  of  Warwick,  or  of  his  means  to  raise  a 
sufficient  army  to  fulfil  his  promise.  The  brave  prince 
wished  to  be  himself  foremost  in  the  battles  fought  in 
his  right  and  for  his  cause.  But  the  earl  contended,  to 
the  surprise  and  joy  of  Margaret,  that  it  best  behooved 
the  prince's  interests  to  enter  England  without  one 
enemy  in  the  field,  leaving  others  to  clear  his  path, 
free  himself  from  all   the  personal  hate  of  hostile  fac- 


THE    LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  259 

tions,  and  without  a  drop  of  blood  upon  the  sword  of 
one  heralded  and  announced  as  the  peace-maker  and 
impartial  reconciler  of  all  feuds.  So  then  (these  high 
conditions  settled),  in  presence  of  the  Kings  Rene  and 
Louis,  of  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Warwick,  and  in 
solemn  state,  at  Amboise,  Edward  of  Lancaster  plighted 
his  marriage  troth  to  his  beloved  and  loving  Anne. 

It  was  deep  night,  and  high  revel  in  the  Palace  of 
Amboise  crowned  the  ceremonies  of  that  memorable 
day.  The  earl  of  Warwick  stood  alone  in  the  same 
chamber  in  which  he  had  first  discovered  the  secret  of 
the  young  Lancastrian.  Erom  the  brilliant  company, 
assembled  in  the  halls  of  state,  he  had  stolen  unper- 
ceived  away,  for  his  great  heart  was  full  to  overflowing. 
The  part  he  had  played  for  many  days  was  over,  and 
with  it  the  excitement  and  the  fever.  His  schemes 
were  crowned  ;  the  Lancastrians  were  won  to  his  revenge ; 
the  king's  heir  was  the  betrothed  of  his  favorite  child ; 
—  and  the  hour  was  visible  in  the  distance,  when,  by 
the  retribution  most  to  be  desired,  the  father's  hand 
should  lead  that  child  to  the  throne  of  him  who  would 
have  degraded  her  to  the  dust.  If  victory  awaited  his 
sanguine  hopes,  as  father  to  his  future  queen,  the 
dignity  and  power  of  the  earl  became  greater  in  the 
court  of  Lancaster  than,  even  in  his  palmiest  day, 
amidst  the  minions  of  ungrateful  York ;  the  sire  of  two 
lines;  if  Anne's  posterity  should  fail,  the  crown  would 
pass  to  the  sons  of  Isabel,  —  in  either  case,  from  him  (if 
successful  in  his  invasion)  would  descend  the  royalty 
of  England.  Ambition,  pride,  revenge,  might  well 
exult  in  viewing  the  future,  as  mortal  wisdom  could 
discern  it.  The  house  of  Nevile  never  seemed  bright- 
ened by  a  more  glorious  star:  and  yet  the  earl  was 
heavy  and  sad  at  heart.     However  he  had  concealed  it 


260         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

from  the  eyes  of  others,  the  haughty  ire  of  Margaret 
must  have  galled  him  in  his  deepest  soul.  And  even, 
as  he  had  that  day  contemplated  the  holy  happiness  in 
the  face  of  Anne,  a  sharp  pang  had  shot  through  his 
breast.  Were  those  the  witnesses  of  fair-omened  spou- 
sailles  1  How  different  from  the  hearty  greeting  of  his 
warrior-friends,  was  the  measured  courtesy  of  foes,  who 
had  felt  and  fled  before  his  sword !  If  aught  chanced  to 
him,  in  the  hazard  of  the  field,  what  thought  for  his 
child  could  ever  speak  in  pity  from  the  hard  and  scornful 
eyes  of  the  imperious  Anjouite! 

The  mist  which  till  then  had  clouded  his  mind,  or 
left  visible  to  his  gaze  but  one  stern  idea  of  retribution, 
melted  into  air.  He  beheld  the  fearful  crisis  to  which 
his  life  had  passed,  —  he  had  reached  the  eminence  to 
mourn  the  happy  gardens  left  behind.  Gone,  forever 
gone,  the  old,  endearing  friendships,  —  the  sweet  and 
manly  remembrances  of  brave  companionship  and  early 
love!  Who  among  those  who  had  confronted  war  by 
his  side,  for  the  house  of  York,  would  hasten  to  clasp 
his  hand  and  hail  his  coming,  as  the  captain  of  hated 
hancaster?  True,  could  he  bow  his  honor  to  proclaim 
the  true  cause  of  his  desertion,  the  heart  of  every  father 
would  beat  in  sympathy  with  his;  but  less  than  ever 
could  the  tale  that  vindicated  his  name  be  told.  How 
stoop  to  invoke  malignant  pity  to  the  insult  offered  to 
a  future  queen!  Dark  in  his  grave  must  rest  the  secret 
no  words  could  syllable,  save  by  such  vague  and  myste- 
rious hint  and  comment  as  pass  from  baseless  gossip  into 
dubious  history.1  True,  that  in  his  change  of  party  he 
was  not,  like  Julian  of  Spain,  an  apostate  to  his  native 

1  Hall  well  explains  the  mystery  which  wrapped  the  king's  in- 
sult to  a  female  of  the  House  of  Warwick,  by  the  simple  sentence, 
"  The  certainty  was  not,  for  both  their  honors,  openly  known ! " 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  261 

land.  He  did  not  meditate  the  subversion  of  his  coun- 
try by  the  foreign  foe,  it  was  but  the  substitution  of  one 
English  monarch  for  another,  —  a  virtuous  prince  for 
a  false  and  a  sanguinary  king.  True,  that  the  change 
from  rose  to  rose  had  been  so  common  amongst  the 
greatest  and  the  bravest,  that  even  the  most  rigid  could 
scarcely  censure  what  the  age  itself  had  sanctioned. 
But  what  other  man  of  his  stormy  day  had  been  so 
conspicuous  in  the  downfall  of  those  he  was  now  as 
conspicuously  to  raise  ?  What  other  man  had  Richard 
of  York  taken  so  dearly  to  his  heart;  to  what  other  man 
had  the  august  father  said,  "  Protect  my  sons  "  1  Before 
him  seemed  literally  to  rise  the  phantom  of  that  honored 
prince,  and  with  clay-cold  lips  to  ask,  "  Art  thou,  of  all 
the  world,  the  doomsman  of  my  first-born  ?  "  A  groan 
escaped  the  breast  of  the  self -tormentor,  he  fell  on  his 
knees  and  prayed,  "Oh,  pardon,  thou  All-seeing! — ■ 
plead  for  me,  Divine  Mother!  if  in  this  I  have  darkly 
erred,  taking  my  heart  for  my  conscience,  and  mindful 
only  of  a  selfish  wrong!  Oh,  surely,  no!  Had  Richard 
of  York  himself  lived  to  know  what  I  have  suffered  from 
his  unworthy  son :  causeless  insult,  broken  faith,  public 
and  unabashed  dishonor; — yea,  pardoning,  serving, 
loving  on  through  all,  till,  at  the  last,  nothing  less 
than  the  foulest  taint  that  can  light  upon  'scutcheon 
and  name  was  the  cold,  premeditated  reward  for  untired 
devotion,  —  surely,  surely,  Richard  himself  had  said, 
'  Thy  honor,  at  last,  forbids  all  pardon!  '  " 

Then,  in  that  rapidity  with  which  the  human  heart, 
once  seizing  upon  self-excuse,  reviews,  one  after  one, 
the  fair  apologies,  the  earl  passed  from  the  injury  to 
himself  to  the  mal-government  of  his  land,  and  mut- 
tered over  the  thousand  instances  of  cruelty  and  misrule 
which   rose   to   his   remembrance :    forgetting,   alas !    or 


262         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

steeling  himself  to  the  memory,  that  till  Edward's 
vices  had  assailed  his  own  hearth  and  honor,  he  had 
been  contented  with  lamenting  them,  —  he  had  not  ven- 
tured to  chastise.  At  length,  calm  and  self-acquitted, 
he  rose  from  his  self -confession,  and  leaning  by  the 
open  casement,  drank  in  the  reviving  and  gentle  balm 
of  the  summer  air.  The  state  apartments  he  had  left, 
formed,  as  we  have  before  observed,  an  angle  to  the 
wing  in  which  the  chamber  he  had  now  retired  to  was 
placed.  They  were  brilliantly  illumined, — their  win- 
dows open  to  admit  the  fresh,  soft  breeze  of  night,  — ■ 
and  he  saw,  as  if  by  daylight,  distinct  and  gorgeous,  in 
their  gay  dresses,  the  many  revellers  within.  But  one 
group  caught  and  riveted  his  eye.  Close  by  the  centre 
window  he  recognized  his  gentle  Anne,  with  downcast 
looks;  he  almost  fancied  he  saw  her  blush,  as  her  young 
bridegroom,  young  and  beautiful  as  herself,  whispered 
love's  flatteries  in  her  ear.  He  saw  farther  on,  but  yet 
near,  his  own  sweet  countess,  and  muttered,  "  After 
twenty  years  of  marriage,  may  Anne  be  as  dear  to  him 
as  thou  art  now  to  me!  "  And  still  he  saw,  or  deemed 
he  saw,  his  lady's  eye,  after  resting  with  tender  hap- 
piness on  the  young  pair,  rove  wistfully  around,  as  if 
missing  and  searching  for  her  partner  in  her  mother's 
joy.  But  what  form  sweeps  by  with  so  haughty  a 
majesty,  then  pauses  by  the  betrothed,  addresses  them 
not,  but  seems  to  regard  them  with  so  fixed  a  watch? 
He  knew  by  her  ducal  diadem,  by  the  baudekin  colors 
of  her  robe,  by  her  unmistakable  air  of  pride,  his 
daughter  Isabel.  He  did  not  distinguish  the  expres- 
sion of  her  countenance,  but  an  ominous  thrill  passed 
through  his  heart ;  for  the  attitude  itself  had  an  expres- 
sion, and  not  that  of  a  sister's  sympathy  and  love.  He 
turned  away  his  face  with  an  unquiet  recollection  of  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         263 

altered  mood  of  his  discontented  daughter.  He  looked 
again :  the  duchess  had  passed  on,  —  lost  amidst  the 
confused  splendor  of  the  revel.  And  high  and  rich 
swelled  the  merry  music  that  invited  to  the  stately 
pavon.  He  gazed  still :  his  lady  had  left  her  place ; 
the  lovers,  too,  had  vanished,  —  and  where  they  had 
stood,  stood  now,  in  close  conference,  his  ancient  ene- 
mies, Exeter  and  Somerset.  The  sudden  change,  from 
objects  of  love  to  those  associated  with  hate,  had  some- 
thing which  touched  one  of  those  superstitions  to  which, 
in  all  ages,  the  heart,  when  deeply  stirred,  is  weakly 
sensitive.  And  again,  forgetful  of  the  revel,  the  earl 
turned  to  the  serener  landscape  of  the  grove  and  the 
moonlit  greensward,  and  mused  and  mused,  till  a  soft 
arm  thrown  round  him  woke  his  revery.  For  this  had 
his  lady  left  the  revel.  Divining,  by  the  instinct  born 
of  love,  the  gloom  of  her  husband,  she  had  stolen  from 
pomp  and  pleasure  to  his  side. 

"Ah!  wherefore  wouldst  thou  rob  me,"  said  the 
countess,  "  of  one  hour  of  thy  presence,  since  so  few 
hours  remain,  —  since  when  the  sun  that  succeeds  the 
morrow's  shines  upon  these  walls,  the  night  of  thine 
absence  will  have  closed  upon  me  1  " 

"And  if  that  thought  of  parting,  sad  to  me  as  thee, 
suffice  not,  belle  amie,  to  dim  the  revel,"  answered  the 
earl,  "  weetest  thou  not  how  ill  the  grave  and  solemn 
thoughts  of  one  who  sees  before  him  the  emprise  that 
would  change  the  dynasty  of  a  realm,  can  suit  with 
the  careless  dance  and  the  wanton  music  1  But  not  at 
that  moment  did  I  think  of  those  mightier  cares;  my 
thoughts  were  nearer  home.  Hast  thou  noted,  sweet 
wife,  the  silent  gloom,  the  clouded  brow  of  Isabel,  since 
she  learned  that  Anne  was  to  be  the  bride  of  the  heir  of 
Lancaster  ?  " 


264         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

The  mother  suppressed  a  sigh.  "  We  must  pardon, 
or  glance  lightly  over,  the  mood  of  one  who  loves  her 
lord,  and  mourns  for  his  baffled  hopes!  Well-a-day ! 
I  grieve  that  she  admits  not  even  me  to  her  confidence. 
Ever  with  the  favorite  lady  who  lately  joined  her  train, 
—  methinks,  that  new  friend  gives  less  holy  counsels 
than  a  mother !  " 

"  Ha!  and  yet  what  counsels  can  Isabel  listen  to  from 
a  comparative  stranger?  Even  if  Edward,  or  rather  his 
cunning  Elizabeth,  had  suborned  this  waiting-woman, 
our  daughter  never  could  hearken,  even  in  an  hour  of 
anger,  to  the  message  from  our  dishonorer  and  our  foe." 

"Nay,  but  a  flatterer  often  fosters,  by  praising  the 
erring  thought.  Isabel  hath  something,  dear  lord,  of 
thy  high  heart  and  courage  and  ever  from  childhood; 
her  vaulting  spirit,  her  very  character  of  stately  beauty, 
have  given  her  a  conviction  of  destiny  and  power  loftier 
than  those  reserved  for  our  gentle  Anne.  Let  us  trust 
to  time  and  forbearance,  and  hope  that  the  affection  of 
the  generous  sister  will  subdue  the  jealousy  of  the 
disappointed  princess." 

"Pray  Heaven,  indeed,  that  it  so  prove!  Isabel's 
ascendancy  over  Clarence  is  great,  and  might  be  dan- 
gerous. Would  that  she  consented  to  remain  in  France 
with  thee  and  Anne!  Her  lord,  at  least,  it  seems  I 
have  convinced  and  satisfied.  Pleased  at  the  vast  for- 
tunes before  him,  the  toys  of  viceregal  power,  his 
lighter  nature  reconciles  itself  to  the  loss  of  a  crown, 
Avhich,  I  fear,  it  could  never  have  upheld.  For  the 
more  I  have  read  his  qualities  in  our  household  inti- 
macy, the  more  it  seems  that  I  could  scarcely  have 
justified  the  imposing  on  England  a  king  not  worthy 
of  so  great  a  people.  He  is  young  yet,  but  how  differ- 
ent the  youth  of  Lancastrian  Edward  1     In  him  what 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  265 

earnest  and  manly  spirit!  What  heaven-born  views 
of  the  duties  of  a  king!  Oh,  if  there  be  a  sin  in  the 
passion  that  hath  urged  me  on,  let  me,  and  me  alone, 
atone,  —  and  may  I  be  at  least  the  instrument  to  give 
to  England  a  prince  whose  virtues  shall  compensate 
for  all !  " 

While  yet  the  last  word  trembled  upon  the  earPs  lips, 
a  light  flashed  along  the  floors,  hitherto  illumined  but 
by  the  stars  and  the  full  moon.  And  presently  Isabel, 
in  conference  with  the  lady  whom  her  mother  had 
referred  to,  passed  into  the  room,  on  her  way  to  her 
private  chamber.  The  countenance  of  this  female  diplo- 
matist, whose  talent  for  intrigue  Philip  de  Comines1 
has  commemorated,  but  whose  name,  happily  for  her 
memory,  history  has  concealed,  was  soft  and  winning 
in  its  expression,  to  the  ordinary  glance,  though  the 
sharpness  of  the  features,  the  thin  compression  of  the 
lips,  and  the  harsh,  dry  redness  of  the  hair,  corre- 
sponded with  the  attributes  which  modern  physiog- 
nomical science  truly  or  erringly  assigns  to  a  wily  and 
treacherous  character.  She  bore  a  light  in  her  hand, 
and  its  rays  shone  full  on  the  disturbed  and  agitated 
face  of  the  duchess.  Isabel  perceived  at  once  the  forms 
of  her  parents,  and  stopped  short  in  some  whispered 
conversation,  and  uttered  a  cry  almost  of  dismay. 

"  Thou  leavest  the  revel  betimes,  fair  daughter,"  said 
the  earl,  examining  her  countenance  with  an  eye  some- 
what stern. 

"My  lady,"  said  the  confidant,  with  a  lowly  rever- 
ence, "was  anxious  for  her  babe." 

"Thy    lady,    good    waiting-wench,"    said   Warwick 
"  needs    not   thy   tongue   to   address    her   father.      Pass 


on." 


1  Comines,  iii.  5 ;  Hall,  Lingard,  Hume,  etc. 


2C6  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

The  gentlewoman  bit  her  lips,  but  obeyed,  and 
quitted  the  room.  The  earl  approached  and  took 
Isabel's  hand,  —  it  was  cold  as  stone. 

"My  child,"  said  he,  tenderly,  "thou  dost  well  to 
retire  to  rest;  of  late  thy  cheek  hath  lost  its  bloom. 
But  just  now,  for  many  causes,  I  was  wishing  thee  not 
to  brave  our  perilous  return  to  England;  and  now,  I 
know  not  whether  it  would  make  me  the  more  uneasy 
to  fear  for  thy  health  if  absent,  or  thy  safety  if  with 
me !  " 

"  My  lord,"  replied  Isabel,  coldly,  "  my  duty  calls 
me  to  my  husband's  side,  and  the  more,  since  now  it 
seems  he  dares  the  battle,  but  reaps  not  its  rewards! 
Let  Edward  and  Anne  rest  here  in  safety,  —  Clarence 
and  Isabel  go  to  achieve  the  diadem  and  orb  for  others!  " 

"  Be  not  bitter  with  thy  father,  girl,  —  be  not  envious 
of  thy  sister!"  said  the  earl,  in  grave  rebuke;  then 
softening  his  tone,  he  added,  "The  women  of  a  noble 
house  should  have  no  ambition  of  their  own,  —  their 
glory  and  their  honor  they  should  leave,  unmurmuring, 
in  the  hands  of  men!  Mourn  not  if  thy  sister  mounts 
the  throne  of  him  who  would  have  branded  the  very 
name  to  which  thou  and  she  were  born!  " 

"  I  have  made  no  reproach,  my  lord.  Forgive  me,  I 
pray  you,  if  I  now  retire;  I  am  sore  weary,  and  would 
fain  have  strength  and  health  not  to  be  a  burden  to  you 
when  you  depart." 

The  duchess  bowed  with  proud  submission,  and 
moved  on. 

"  Beware!  "  said  the  earl,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Beware!  —  and  of  what?  "  said  Isabel,  startled. 

"  Of  thine  own  heart,  Isabel.  Ay,  go  to  thine  infant's 
couch,  ere  thou  seek  thine  own,  and,  before  the  sleep  of 
Innocence,  calm  thyself  back  to  Womanhood." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         267 

The  duchess  raised  her  head  quickly,  hut  habitual 
awe  of  her  father  checked  the  angry  answer;  and  kiss- 
ing, with  formal  reverence,  the  hand  the  countess 
extended  to  her,  she  left  the  room.  She  gained  the 
chamber  in  which  was  the  cradle  of  her  son,  gorgeously 
canopied  with  silks,  inwrought  with  the  blazoned  arms 
of  royal  Clarence ,  —  and  beside  the  cradle  sat  the 
confidant. 

The  duchess  drew  aside  the  drapery,  and  contem- 
plated the  rosy  face  of  the  infant  slumberer. 

Then,  turning  to  her  confidant,  she  said, — 

"  Three  months  since,  and  I  hoped  my  first-born 
would  be  a  king!  Away  with  those  vain  mockeries 
of  royal  birth!  How  suit  they  the  destined  vassal  of 
the  abhorred  Lancastrian  1  " 

"Sweet  lady,"  said  the  confidant,  "did  I  not  warn 
thee  from  the  first,  that  this  alliance,  to  the  injury  of 
my  lord  duke  and  this  dear  boy,  was  already  imminent1? 
I  had  hoped  thou  mightst  have  prevailed  with  the 
earl !  " 

"  He  heeds  me  not,  —  he  cares  not  for  me !  "  exclaimed 
Isabel ;  "  his  whole  love  is  for  Anne,  —  Anne,  who, 
without  energy  and  pride,  I  scarcely  have  looked  on 
as  my  equal!  And  now,  to  my  younger  sister,  I  must 
bow  my  knee,  — pleased  if  she  deign  to  bid  me  hold  the 
skirt  of  her  queenly  robe!     Never,  —  no,  never!" 

"Calm  thyself;  the  courier  must  part  this  night. 
My  Lord  of  Clarence  is  already  in  his  chamber;  he 
waits  but  thine  assent  to  write  to  Edward,  that  he 
rejects  not  his  loving  messages." 

The  duchess  walked  to  and  fro,  in  great  disorder. 

"  But  to  be  thus  secret  and  false  to  my  father  1  " 

"  Doth  he  merit  that  thou  shouldst  sacrifice  thy  child 


268         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

to  him?  Reflect! — the  king  has  no  son  ?  The  Eng- 
lish barons  acknowledge  not  in  girls  a  sovereign;1  and, 
with  Edward  on  the  throne,  thy  son  is  heir-presumptive. 
Little  chance  that  a  male  heir  shall  now  be  born  to 
Queen  Elizabeth,  while  from  Anne  and  her  bridegroom 
a  long  line  may  spring.  Besides,  no  matter  what 
parchment  treaties  may  ordain,  how  can  Clarence  and 
his  offspring  ever  be  regarded  by  a  Lancastrian  king  but 
as  enemies  to  feed  the  prison  or  the  block,  when  some 
false  invention  gives  the  seemly  pretext  for  extirpating 
the  lawful  race  1  " 

"  Cease,  cease,  cease!  "  cried  Isabel  in  terrible  strug- 
gles with  herself. 

"  Lady,  the  hour  presses!  And,  reflect,  a  few  lines 
are  but  words,  to  be  confirmed  or  retracted  as  occasion 
suits!  If  Lord  Warwick  succeed,  and  King  Edward 
lose  his  crown,  ye  can  shape  as  ye  best  may  your  con- 
duct to  the  time.  But  if  the  earl  lose  the  day,  —  if 
again  he  be  driven  into  exile,  —  a  few  words  now  release 
you  and  yours  from  everlasting  banishment;  restore  your 
boy  to  his  natural  heritage ;  deliver  you  from  the  inso- 
lence of  the  Anjouite,  who,  methinks,  even  dared  this 
very  day  to  taunt  your  Highness —  " 

"  She  did,  she  did  !  Oh  that  my  father  had  been  by 
to  hear!  She  bade  me  stand  aside  (that  Anne  might 
pass) ,  — '  not  for  the  younger  daughter  of  Lord  War- 
wick, but  for  the  lady  admitted  into  the  royalty  of 
Lancaster  !  '  Elizabeth  Woodville,  at  least,  never  dared 
this  insolence !  " 

1  Miss  Strickland  ("Life  of  Elizabeth  of  York,")  remarks, 
"  How  much  Norman  prejudice  in  favor  of  Salic  law  had  corrupted 
the  common,  or  constitutional  law  of  England,  regarding  the  suc- 
cession."    The  remark  involves  a  controversy. 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BAEONS.  269 

"  And  this  Margaret,  the  Duke  of  Clarence  is  to  place 
on  the  throne  which  your  child  yonder  might  otherwise 
aspire  to  mount!  " 

Isahel  clasped  her  hands  in  mute  passion. 

"  Hark!  "  said  the  confidant,  throwing  open  the  door. 

And  along  the  corridor  came,  in  measured  pomp,  a 
stately  procession,  the  chamberlain  in  front,  announcing 
"  Her  Highness  the  Princess  of  Wales ;  "  and  Louis  XI. , 
leading  the  virgin  bride  (wife  but  in  name  and  honor, 
till  her  dowry  of  a  kingdom  was  made  secure)  to  her 
gentle  rest.  The  ceremonial  pomp,  the  regal  homage 
that  attended  the  younger  sister  thus  raised  above  her- 
self, completed  in  Isabel's  jealous  heart  the  triumph  of 
the  Tempter.  Her  face  settled  into  hard  resolve,  and 
she  passed  at  once  from  the  chamber  into  one  near  at 
hand,  where  the  Duke  of  Clarence  sat  alone,  the  rich 
wines  of  the  livery,  not  untasted,  before  him,  and  the 
ink  yet  wet  upon  a  scroll  he  had  just  indited. 

He  turned  his  irresolute  countenance  to  Isabel  as  she 
bent  over  him  and  read  the  letter.  It  was  to  Edward; 
and  after  briefly  warning  him  of  the  meditated  invasion, 
significantly  added,  "  And  if  I  may  seem  to  share  this 
emprise,  which,  here  and  alone,  I  cannot  resist,  thou 
shalt  find  me  still,  when  the  moment  comes,  thy  affec- 
tionate brother  and  loyal  subject." 

"  Well,  Isabel,"  said  the  duke,  "  thou  knowest  I  have 
delayed  this,  till  the  last  hour,  to  please  thee ;  for  verily, 
lady  mine,  thy  will  is  my  sweetest  law.  But  now,  if 
thy  heart  misgives  thee  —  " 

"It  does,  it  does!"  exclaimed  the  duchess,  bursting 
into  tears. 

"If  thy  heart  misgives  thee,"  continued  Clarence, 
who  with  all  his  weakness  had  much  of  the  duplicity  of 


270         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

his  brothers,  "why,  let  it  pass.  Slavery  to  scornful 
Margaret,  vassalage  to  thy  sister's  spouse,  triumph  to 
the  House  which  both  thou  and  I  were  taught  from 
childhood  to  deem  accursed,  —  why  welcome  all!  so 
that  Isabel  does  not  weep,  and  our  boy  reproach  us 
not  in  the  days  to  come!  " 

For  all  answer,  Isabel,  who  had  seized  the  letter,  let 
it  drop  on  the  table,  pushed  it,  with  averted  face, 
towards  the  duke,  and  turned  back  to  the  cradle  of  her 
.child,  whom  she  woke  with  her  sobs,  and  who  wailed 
its  shrill  reply  in  infant  petulance  and  terror,  — snatched 
from  its  slumber  to  the  arms  of  the  remorseful  mother. 

A  smile  of  half  contemptuous  joy  passed  over  the  thin 
lips  of  the  she-Judas,  and,  without  speaking,  she  took 
her  way  to  Clarence.  He  had  sealed  and  bound  his 
letter,  first  adding  these  words,  "  My  lady  and  duchess, 
whatever  her  kin,  has  seen  this  letter,  and  approves  it, 
for  she  is  more  a  friend  to  York  than  to  the  earl,  now 
he  has  turned  Lancastrian;"  and  placed  it  in  a  small 
iron  coffer. 

He  gave  the  coffer,  curiously  clasped  and  locked,  to 
the  gentlewoman,  with  a  significant  glance,  "  Be  quick, 
or  she  repents!  The  courier  waits!  — his  steed  saddled! 
The  instant  you  give  it,  he  departs,  —  he  hath  his  permit 
to  pass  the  gates." 

"All  is  prepared;  ere  the  clock  strike,  he  is  on  his 
way. " 

The  confidant  vanished,  — the  duke  sank  in  his  chair, 
and  rubbed  his  hands. 

"  Oh,  ho!  father-in-law,  thou  deemest  me  too  dull  for 
a  crown.  I  am  not  dull  enough  for  thy  tool.  I  have 
had  the  wit,  at  least,  to  deceive  thee,  and  to  hide 
resentment  beneath  a  smiling  brow!     Dullard  thou,  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         271 

believe  aught  less  than  the  sovereignty  of  England  could 
have  bribed  Clarence  to  thy  cause!  "  He  turned  to  the 
table  and  complacently  drained  his  goblet. 

Suddenly,  haggard  and  pale  as  a  spectre,  Isabel  stood 
before  hirn. 

"I  was  mad  —  mad,  George!  The  letter!  the  letter, 
—  it  must  not  go !  " 

At  that  moment  the  clock  struck. 

"  Bel  enfant"  said  the  duke,  "  it  is  too  late!  " 


BOOK   X. 


THE    RETURN    OF    THE    KING-MAKER. 


CHAPTER    I. 

The  Maid's  Hope,  the  Courtier's  Love,  and  the  Sage's  Comfort. 

Fair  are  thy  fields,  0  England ;  fair  the  rural  farm  and 
the  orchards  in  which  the  blossoms  have  ripened  into 
laughing  fruits;  and  fairer  than  all,  0  England,  the  faces 
of  thy  soft-eyed  daughters. 

From  the  field  where  Sibyll  and  her  father  had  wan- 
dered amidst  the  dead,  the  dismal  witnesses  of  war  had 
vanished ;  and  over  the  green  pastures  roved  the  gentle 
flocks.  And  the  farm  to  which  Hastings  had  led  the 
wanderers  looked  upon  that  peaceful  field  through  its 
leafy  screen ;  and  there  father  and  daughter  had  found  a 
home. 

It  was  a  lovely  summer  evening,  and  Sibyll  put  aside 
the  broidery-frame,  at  which,  for  the  last  hour,  she  had 
not  worked ;  and  gliding  to  the  lattice,  looked  wistfully 
along  the  winding  lane.  The  room  was  in  the  upper 
story,  and  was  decorated  with  a  care  which  the  ex- 
terior of  the  house  little  promised,  and  which  almost 
approached  to  elegance.  The  fresh,  green  rushes  that 
strewed  the  floor  were  intermingled  with  dried  wild 
thyme  and  other  fragrant  herbs.  The  bare  walls  were 
vol.  11.  — 18 


274         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

hung  with  serge  of  a  hright  and  cheerful  blue ;  a  rich 
carpet  de  cuir  covered  the  oak  table,  on  which  lay 
musical  instruments,  curiously  inlaid,  with  a  few  MSS., 
chiefly  of  English  and  Provencal  poetry.  The  taborets 
were  covered  with  cushions  of  Norwich  worsted,  in  gay 
colors.  All  was  simple,  it  is  true,  yet  all  betokened  a 
comfort  —  nay,  a  refinement,  an  evidence  of  wealth  — 
very  rare  in  the  houses  even  of  the  second  order  of 
nobility. 

As  Sibyll  gazed,  her  face  suddenly  brightened:  she 
uttered  a  joyous  cry, —  hurried  from  the  room,  descended 
the  stairs,  and  passed  her  father,  who  was  seated  with- 
out the  porch,  and  seemingly  plunged  in  one  of  his  most 
abstracted  reveries.  She  kissed  his  brow,  —  (he  heeded 
her  not), — bounded  with  light  step  over  the  sward  of 
the  orchard,  and  pausing  by  a  wicket  gate,  listened  with 
throbbing  heart  to  the  advancing  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs ; 
nearer  came  the  sound,  and  nearer.  A  cavalier  appeared 
in  sight,  sprang  from  his  saddle,  and,  leaving  his  palfrey 
to  find  his  way  to  the  well-known  stable,  sprang  lightly 
over  the  little  gate. 

"  And  thou  hast  watched  for  me,  Sibyll  1  " 
The  girl  blushingly  withdrew  from  the  eager  embrace, 
and  said,  touchingly,  "  My  heart  watcheth  for  thee 
alway.  Oh,  shall  I  thank  or  chide  thee  for  so  much 
care!  Thou  wilt  see  how  thy  craftsmen  have  changed 
the  rugged  homestead  into  the  daintiest  bower!  " 

"Alas!  my  Sibyll !  would  that  it  were  worthier  of 
thy  beauty,  and  our  mutual  troth!  Blessings  on  thy 
trust  and  swreet  patience;  may  the  day  soon  come  when 
I  may  lead  thee  to  a  nobler  home,  and  hear  knight  and 
baron  envy  the  bride  of  Hastings." 

"  My  own  lord  !  "  said  Sibyll,  with  grateful  tears  in 
confiding  eyes;  but,   after  a  pause,   she  added,   timidly, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         275 

"  Does  the  king  still  bear  so  stern  a  memory  against  so 
humble  a  subject  1  " 

"  The  king  is  more  wroth  than  before,  since  tidings 
of  Lord  Warwick's  restless  machinations  in  France  have 
soured  his  temper.  He  cannot  hear  thy  name  without 
threats  against  thy  father  as  a  secret  adherent  of  Lan- 
caster, and  accuseth  thee  of  witching  his  chamberlain,  — 
as,  in  truth,  thou  hast.  The  Duchess  of  Bedford  is 
more  than  ever  under  the  influence  of  Friar  Bungey,  to 
whose  spells  and  charms,  and  not  to  our  good  swords, 
she  ascribes  the  marvellous  flight  of  Warwick  and  the 
dispersion  of  our  foes;  and  the  friar,  methinks,  has 
fostered,  and  yet  feeds  Edward's  suspicions  of  thy 
harmless  father.  The  king  chides  himself  for  having 
suffered  poor  Warner  to  depart  unscathed,  and  even 
recalls  the  disastrous  adventure  of  the  mechanical,  and 
swears  that,  from  the  first,  thy  father  was  in  treasonable 
conspiracy  with  Margaret.  Nay,  sure  I  am,  that  if  I 
dared  to  wed  thee  while  his  anger  lasts,  he  would  con- 
demn thee  as  a  sorceress,  and  give  me  up  to  the  secret 
hate  of  my  old  foes,  the  Woodvilles.  But  fie !  be  not 
so  appalled,  my  Sibyll ;  Edward's  passions,  though  fierce, 
are  changef ul,  and  patience  will  reward  us  both. " 

"  Meanwhile,  thou  lovest  me,  Hastings !  "  said  Sibyll, 
with  great  emotion.  "  Oh,  if  thou  knewest  how  I  tor- 
ment myself  in  thine  absence  !  —  I  see  thee  surrounded 
by  the  fairest  and  the  loftiest,  and  say  to  myself,  '  Is  it 
possible  that  he  can  remember  me  1 '  But  thou  lovest 
me  still  —  still  —  still,  and  ever !     Dost  thou  not  1  " 

And  Hastings  said  and  swore. 

"  And  the  Lady  Bonville  1  "  asked  Sibyll,  trying  to 
smile  archly,  but  with  the  faltering  tone  of  jealous 
fear. 

"  I  have  not  seen  her  for  months, "  replied  the  noble, 


276         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

with  a  slight  change  of  countenance.  "  She  is  at  one  of 
their  western  manors.  They  say  her  lord  is  sorely  ill; 
and  the  Lady  Bonville  is  a  devout  hypocrite,  and  plays 
the  tender  wife.  But  enough  of  such  ancient  and  worn- 
out  memories.  Thy  father,  —  sorrows  he  still  for  his 
Eureka  1     I  can  learn  no  trace  of  it. " 

"  See, "  said  Sihyll,  recalled  to  her  filial  love,  and 
pointing  to  Warner  as  they  now  drew  near  the  house,  — 
"  see,  he  shapes  another  Eureka  from  his  thoughts !  " 

"  How  fares  it,  dear  Warner  1  "  asked  the  noble,  tak- 
ing the  scholar's  hand. 

"  Ah !  "  cried  the  student,  roused  at  the  sight  of  his 
powerful  protector.  "  Bringest  thou  tidings  of  it  ?  Thy 
cheerful  eye  tells  me  that — no,  no;  thy  face  changes! 
They  have  destroyed  it!  Oh  that  I  could  be  young  once 
more !  " 

"What!  "said  the  world-wise  man,  astonished.  "If 
thou  hadst  another  youth,  wouldst  thou  cherish  the  same 
delusion,  and  go  again  through  a  life  of  hardship,  perse- 
cution, and  wrong  1  " 

"  My  noble  son, "  said  the  philosopher,  "  for  hours 
when  I  have  felt  the  wrong,  the  persecution,  and  the 
hardship,  count  the  days  and  the  nights  when  I  have 
felt  only  the  hope,  and  the  glory,  and  the  joy!  God 
is  kinder  to  us  all  than  man  can  know ;  for  man  looks 
only  to  the  sorrow  on  the  surface,  and  sees  not  the  con- 
solation in  the  deeps  of  the  unwitnessed  soul." 

Sibyll  had  left  Hastings  by  her  father's  side,  and 
tripped  lightly  to  the  farther  part  of  the  house,  inha- 
bited by  the  rustic  owners  who  supplied  the  homely 
service,  to  order  the  evening  banquet,  —  the  happy  ban- 
quet; for  hunger  gives  not  such  flavor  to  the  viand, 
nor  thirst  such  sparkle  to  the  wine,  as  the  presence  of 
a  beloved  guest. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         277 

And  as  the  courtier  seated  himself  on  the  rude  settle, 
under  the  honeysuckles  that  wreathed  the  porch,  a 
delicious  calm  stole  over  his  sated  mind.  The  pure  soul 
of  the  student,  released  awhile  from  the  tyranny  of  an 
earthly  pursuit, —  the  drudgery  of  a  toil  that,  however 
grand,  still  but  ministered  to  human  and  material 
science, —  had  found  for  its  only  other  element  the 
contemplation  of  more  solemn  and  eternal  mysteries. 
Soaring  naturally,  as  a  bird  freed  from  a  golden  cage, 
into  the  realms  of  heaven,  he  began  now,  with  earnest 
and  spiritual  eloquence,  to  talk  of  the  things  and  visions 
lately  made  familiar  to  his  thoughts.  Mounting  from 
philosophy  to  religion,  he  indulged  in  his  large  ideas 
upon  life  and  nature :  of  the  stars  that  now  came  forth 
in  heaven;  of  the  laws  that  gave  harmony  to  the  uni- 
verse; of  the  evidence  of  a  God  in  the  mechanism  of 
creation;  of  the  spark  from  central  divinity,  that,  kin- 
dling in  a  man's  soul,  we  call  "  genius ; "  of  the  eternal 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  which  makes  the  very  principle 
of  being,  and  types,  in  the  leaf  and  in  the  atom,  the 
immortality  of  the  great  human  race.  He  was  sublimer, 
that  gray  old  man,  hunted  from  the  circle  of  his  kind, 
in  his  words,  than  ever  is  action  in  its  deeds;  for  words 
can  fathom  truth,  and  deeds  but  blunderingly  and  lamely 
seek  it. 

And  the  sad,  and  gifted,  and  erring  intellect  of  Hast- 
ings, rapt  from  its  little  ambition  of  the  hour,  had  no 
answer  when  his  heart  asked,  "  What  can  courts  and  a 
king's  smile  give  me  in  exchange  for  serene  tranquillity 
and  devoted  love  ?  " 


278         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Man  awakes  in  the  Sage,  and  the  She-Wolf  again  hath 
tracked  the  Lamb. 

From  the  night  in  which  Hastings  had  saved  from  the 
knives  of  the  tymbesteres  Sibyll  and  her  father,  his 
honor  and  chivalry  had  made  him  their  protector. 
The  people  of  the  farm  (a  widow  and  her  children, 
with,  the  peasants  in  their  employ)  were  kindly  and 
simple  folks.  What  safer  home  for  the  wanderers  than 
that  to  which  Hastings  had  removed  them  ?  The  influ- 
ence of  Sibyll  over  his  variable  heart  or  fancy  was 
renewed.  Again  vows  were  interchanged,  and  faith 
plighted.  Anthony  Woodville,  Lord  Rivers,  who,  how- 
ever gallant  an  enemy,  was  still  more  than  ever,  since 
Warwick's  exile,  a  formidable  one,  and  who  shared  his 
sister's  dislike  to  Hastings,  was  naturally,  at  that  time, 
in  the  fullest  favor  of  King  Edward,  anxious  to  atone 
for  the  brief  disgrace  his  brother-in-law  had  suffered 
during  the  later  days  of  Warwick's  administration. 
And  Hastings,  offended  by  the  manners  of  the  rival 
favorite,  took  one  of  the  disgusts  so  frequent  in  the 
life  of  a  courtier,  and,  despite  his  office  of  chamberlain, 
absented  himself  much  from  his  sovereign's  company. 
Thus,  in  the  reaction  of  his  mind,  the  influence  of 
Sibyll  was  greater  than  it  otherwise  might  have  been. 
His  visits  to  the  farm  grew  regular  and  frequent.  The 
widow  believed  him  nearly  related  to  Sibyll,  and  sus- 
pected Warner  to  be  some  attainted  Lancastrian,  compelled 
to  hide  in  secret  till  his  pardon  was  obtained;   and  no 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         279 

scandal  was  attached  to  the  noble's  visits,  nor  any 
surprise  evinced  at  his  attentive  care  for  all  that  could 
lend  a  grace  to  a  temporary  refuge  unfitting  the  quality 
of  his  supposed  kindred. 

And,  in  her  entire  confidence  and  reverential  affection, 
Sibyll's  very  pride  was  rather  soothed  than  wounded  by 
obligations  which  were  but  proofs  of  love,  and  to  which 
plighted  troth  gave  her  a  sweet  right.  As  for  Warner, 
he  had  hitherto  seemed  to  regard  the  great  lord's  atten- 
tions only  as  a  tribute  to  his  own  science,  and  a  testimony 
of  the  interest  which  a  statesman  might  naturally  feel 
in  the  invention  of  a  thing  that  might  benefit  the 
realm.  And  Hastings  had  been  delicate  in  the  pretexts 
of  his  visits.  One  time  he  called  to  relate  the  death  of 
poor  Madge,  though  he  kindly  concealed  the  manner  of 
it,  which  he  had  discovered,  but  which  opinion,  if  not 
law,  forbade  him  to  attempt  to  punish:  drowning  was 
but  the  orthodox  ordeal  of  a  suspected  witch,  and  it 
was  not  without  many  scruples  that  the  poor  woman 
was  interred  in  holy  ground.  The  search  for  the 
Eureka  was  a  pretence  that  sufficed  for  countless  visits ; 
and  then,  too,  Hastings  had  counselled  Adam  to  sell 
the  ruined  house,  and  undertaken  the  negotiation;  and 
the  new  comforts  of  their  present  residence,  and  the 
expense  of  the  maintenance,  were  laid  to  the  account 
of  the  sale.  Hastings  had  begun  to  consider  Adam 
Warner  as  utterly  blind  and  passive  to  the  things  that 
passed  under  his  eyes;  and  his  astonishment  was  great 
when,  the  morning  after  the  visit  we  have  just  recorded, 
Adam,  suddenly  lifting  his  eyes,  and  seeing  the  guest 
whispering  soft  tales  in  Sibyll's  ear,  rose  abruptly, 
approached  the  nobleman,  took  him  gently  by  the  arm, 
led  him  into  the  garden,  and  thus  addressed  him ;  — 

"  Noble  lord,  you  have  been  tender  and  generous  in 


280         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

our  misfortunes.  The  poor  Eureka  is  lost  to  me  and  the 
world  forever.  God's  will  be  done  !  Methinks  Heaven 
designs  thereby  to  rouse  me  to  the  sense  of  nearer  duties ; 
and  I  have  a  daughter  whose  name  I  adjure  you  not  to 
sully,  and  whose  heart  I  pray  you  not  to  break.  Come 
hither  no  more,  my  Lord  Hastings. " 

This  speech,  almost  the  only  one  which  showed  plain 
sense  and  judgment  in  the  affairs  of  this  life  that  the 
man  of  genius  had  ever  uttered,  so  confounded  Hastings, 
that  he  with  difficulty  recovered  himself  enough  to 
say,— 

"  My  poor  scholar,  what  hath  so  suddenly  kindled 
suspicions  which  wrong  thy  child  and  me  1  " 

"  Last  eve,  when  we  sat  together,  I  saw  your  hand 
steal  into  hers,  and  suddenly  I  remembered  the  day 
when  I  was  young,  and  wooed  her  mother!  And  last 
night  I  slept  not,  and  sense  and  memory  became  active 
for  my  living  child,  as  they  were  wont  to  be  only  for 
the  iron  infant  of  my  mind,  and  I  said  to  myself, 
'  Lord  Hastings  is  King  Edward's  friend ;  and  King 
Edward  spares  not  maiden  honor.  Lord  Hastings  is 
a  mighty  peer,  and  he  will  not  wed  the  dowerless  and 
worse  than  nameless  girl!  '  Be  merciful!  Depart, 
depart !  " 

"But,"  exclaimed  Hastings,  "if  I  love  thy  sweet 
Sibyll  in  all  honesty;  if  I  have  plighted  to  her  my 
troth  —  " 

"  Alas,  alas!  "  groaned  Adam. 

"  If  I  wait  but  my  king's  permission  to  demand  her 
wedded  hand,  couldst  thou  forbid  me  the  presence  of 
my  affianced  1  " 

"  She  loves  thee,  then  1  "  said  Adam,  in  a  tone  of  great 
anguish ;   "  she  loves  thee,  —  speak !  " 

"  It  is  my  pride  to  think  it. " 


THE  LAST   OF  THE  BARONS.  281 

"  Then  go,  —  go  at  once :  come  back  no  more  till  thou 
hast  wound  up  thy  courage  to  brave  the  sacrifice;  no, 
not  till  the  priest  is  ready  at  the  altar, —  not  till  the 
bridegroom  can  claim  the  bride.  And  as  that  time  will 
never  come  —  never  —  never, —  leave  me  to  whisper  to 
the  breaking  heart,  '  Courage !  honor  and  virtue  are  left 
thee  yet,  and  thy  mother  from  heaven  looks  down  on 
a  stainless  child  ! '  " 

The  resuscitation  of  the  dead  could  scarcely  have 
startled  and  awed  the  courtier  more  than  this  abrupt 
development  of  life  and  passion  and  energy,  in  a  man 
who  had  hitherto  seemed  to  sleep  in  the  folds  of  his 
thought,  as  a  chrysalis  hi  its  web.  But  as  we  have 
always  seen  that  ever,  when  this  strange  being  woke 
from  his  ideal  abstraction,  he  awoke  to  honor  and  cour- 
age and  truth,  — so  now,  whether,  as  he  had  said,  the 
absence  of  the  Eureka  left  his  mind  to  the  sense  of 
practical  duties,  or  whether  their  common  suffering  had 
more  endeared  to  him  his  gentle  companion,  and  affec- 
tion sharpened  reason,  Adam  Warner  became  puissant 
and  majestic  in  his  rights  and  sanctity  of  father;  greater 
in  his  homely  household  character,  than  when,  in  his 
mania  of  inventor,  and  the  sublime  hunger  of  aspiring 
genius,  he  had  stolen  to  his  daughter's  couch,  and  waked 
her  with  the  cry  of  "  Gold!  " 

Before  the  force  and  power  of  Adam's  adjuration, — 
his  outstretched  hand,  the  anguish,  yet  authority, 
written  on  his  face,  —  all  the  art  and  self-possession  of 
the  accomplished  lover  deserted  him,  as  one  spellbound. 

He  was  literally  without  reply ;  till,  suddenly,  the 
sight  of  Sibyll,  who,  surprised  by  this  singular  confer- 
ence, but  unsuspecting  its  nature,  now  came  from  the 
house,  relieved  and  nerved  him ;  and  his  first  impulse 
was  then,  as  ever,  worthy  and  noble,  —  such  as  showed, 


282         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

though  dimly,  how  glorious  a  creature  he  had  "been,  if 
cast  in  a  time  and  amidst  a  race  which  could  have 
fostered  the  impulse  into  habit. 

"  Brave  old  man !  "  he  said,  kissing  the  hand  still 
raised  in  command,  — "  thou  hast  spoken  as  beseems 
thee;  and  my  answer  I  will  tell  thy  child."  Then 
hurrying  to  the  wondering  Sibyll,  he  resumed :  "  Your 
father  says  well,  that  not  thus,  dubious  and  in  secret, 
should  I  visit  the  home  blessed  by  thy  beloved  presence, 
—  I  obey :  I  leave  thee,  Sibyll.  I  go  to  my  king,  as 
one  who  hath  served  him  long  and  truly,  and  claims 
his  guerdon,  —  thee  !  " 

"  Oh,  my  lord!  "  exclaimed  Sibyll,  in  generous  terror; 
"bethink  thee  well,  —  remember  Avhat  thou  saidst  but 
last  eve.  This  king  so  fierce, —  my  name  so  hated! 
No,  no !  leave  me.  Farewell  forever,  if  it  he  right, 
as  what  thou  and  my  father  say  must  be.  But  thy 
life,  thy  liberty,  thy  welfare,  —  they  are  my  happiness ; 
thou  hast  no  right  to  endanger  them  !  "  And  she  fell 
at  his  knees.  He  raised,  and  strained  her  to  his  heart; 
then  resigning  her  to  her  father's  arms,  he  said,  in  a 
voice  choked  with  emotion, — 

"  Not  as  peer  and  as  knight,  hut  as  man,  I  claim  my 
prerogative  of  home  and  hearth!  Let  Edward  frown, 
call  back  his  gifts,  banish  me  his  court,  — thou  art 
more  worth  than  all !  Look  for  me,  sigh  not,  weep 
not,  —  smile  till  we  meet  again !  "  He  left  them  with 
these  words,  hastened  to  the  stall  where  his  steed  stood, 
caparisoned  it  with  his  own  hands,  and  rode,  with  the 
speed  of  one  whom  passion  spurs  and  goads,  towards  the 
Tower  of  London. 

But  as  Sibyll  started  from  her  father's  arms,  when 
she  heard  the  departing  hoofs  of  her  lover's  steed, —  to 
listen  and  to  listen  for  the  last  sound  that  told  of  him, 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  283 

a  terrible  apparition,  ever  ominous  of  woe  and  horror, 
met  her  eye.  On  the  other  side  of  the  orchard  fence, 
which  concealed  her  figure,  but  not  her  well-known 
face  which  peered  above,  stood  the  tymbestere,  Graul. 
A  shriek  of  terror  at  this  recognition  burst  from  Sibyll, 
as  she  threw  herself  again  upon  Adam's  breast:  but 
when  he  looked  round,  to  discover  the  cause  of  her 
alarm,  —  Graul  was  gone. 


284         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Virtuous  Resolves  submitted  to  the  Test  of  Vanity  and  the 

World. 

On  reaching  his  own  house,  Hastings  learned  that  the 
court  was  still  at  Shene.  He  waited  but  till  the  retinue 
which  his  rank  required  were  equipped  and  ready,  and 
reached  the  court,  from  which  of  late  he  had  found  so 
many  excuses  to  absent  himself,  before  night.  Edward 
was  then  at  the  banquet,  and  Hastings  was  too  experi- 
enced a  courtier  to  disturb  him  at  such  a  time.  In  a 
mood  unfit  for  compatronship,  he  took  his  way  to  the 
apartments  usually  reserved  for  him,  when  a  gentleman 
met  him  by  the  way,  and  apprised  him,  with  great  re- 
spect, that  the  Lord  Scales  and  Rivers  had  already  ap- 
propriated those  apartments  to  the  principal  waiting-lady 
of  his  countess, —  but  that  other  chambers,  if  less  com- 
modious and  spacious,  were  at  his  command. 

Hastings  had  not  the  superb  and  more  than  regal  pride 
of  Warwick  and  Montagu ;  but  this  notice  sensibly  piqued 
and  galled  him. 

"  My  apartments  as  Lord  Chamberlain,  —  as  one  of  the 
captain-generals  in  the  king's  army,  given  to  the  waiting- 
lady  of  Sir  Anthony  Woodville's  wife  !  —  At  whose  order, 
sir?" 

"Her  Highness  the  queen's  —  pardon  me,  my  lord," 
and  the  gentleman,  looking  round  and  sinking  his  voice, 
continued,  —  "pardon  me,  her  Highness  added,  'If  my 
Lord  Chamberlain  returns  not  ere  the  week  ends,  he 
may    find  not   only    the   apartment,    but  the    office,    no 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         285 

longer  free.'     My  lord,   we  all  love  yon, —  forgive  my 
zeal,  and  look  well  if  yon  would  guard  yonr  own." 

"  Thanks,  sir.  —  Is  my  lord  of  Gloucester  in  the 
palace  1  " 

"  He  is,  —  and  in  his  cham her.  He  sits  not  long  at 
the  feast." 

"  Oblige  me  by  craving  his  Grace's  permission  to  wait 
on  him  at  leisure, —  I  attend  his  answer  here." 

Leaning  against  the  wall  of  the  corridor,  Hastings  gave 
himself  up  to  other  thoughts  than  those  of  love!  So 
strong  is  habit,  so  powerful  vanity  or  ambition,  once  in- 
dulged, that  this  puny  slight  made  a  sudden  revulsion  in 
the  mind  of  the  royal  favorite:  once  more  the  agitated 
and  brilliant  court  life  stirred  and  fevered  him ;  —  that 
life,  so  wearisome  when  secure,  became  sweet  when  im- 
perilled. To  counteract  his  foes,  to  humble  his  rivals, 
to  regain  the  king's  countenance,  to  baffle,  with  the  easy 
art  of  his  skilful  intellect,  every  hostile  stratagem,  — 
such  were  the  ideas  that  crossed  and  hurtled  themselves, 
and  Sibyll  was  forgotten. 

The  gentleman  reappeared.  "  Prince  Richard  be- 
sought my  lord's  presence  with  loving  welcome ;  "  and 
to  the  duke's  apartment  went  Lord  Hastings.  Richard, 
clad  in  a  loose  chamber  robe,  which  concealed  the  defects 
of  his  shape,  rose  from  before  a  table  covered  with  papers, 
and  embraced  Hastings  with  cordial  affection. 

"  Never  more  gladly  hail  to  thee,  dear  William.  I 
need  thy  wise  counsels  with  the  king,  and  I  have  glad 
tidings  for  thine  own  ear. " 

"  Pardieu,  my  prince,  the  king,  methinks,  will  scarce 
heed  the  counsels  of  a  dead  man. " 

"Dead?" 

"  Ay.  At  courts  it  seems  men  are  dead,  —  their  rooms 
filled,   their  places  promised  or  bestowed,   if   they  come 


286         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAEONS. 

not,  morn  and  night,  to  convince  the  king  that  they  are 
alive."  And  Hastings,  with  constrained  gayety,  repeated 
the  information  he  had  received. 

"  What  would  you,  Hastings  1  "  said  the  duke,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders,  hut  with  some  latent  meaning  in  his 
tone.  "Lord  Rivers  were  nought  in  himself;  but  his 
lady  is  a  mighty  heiress,1  and  requires  state,  as  she  he- 
stows  pomp.  Look  round,  and  tell  me  what  man  ever 
maintained  himself  in  power  without  the  strong  connec- 
tions, the  convenient  dower,  the  acute,  unseen,  unsleep- 
ing woman-influence  of  some  noble  wife  ?  How  can  a 
poor  man  defend  his  repute,  his  popular  name,  that  airy 
but  all-puissant  thing  we  call  dignity  or  station,  against 
the  pricks  and  stings  of  female  intrigue  and  female  gos- 
sip ?  But  he  marries,  and  lo,  a  host  of  fairy  champions, 
who  pinch  the  rival  losels  unawares :  his  wife  hath  her 
army  of  courtpie  and  jupon,  to  array  against  the  dames 
of  his  foes!  Wherefore,  my  friend,  while  thou  art  un- 
wedded,  think  not  to  cope  with  Lord  Eivers  who  hath  a 
wife,  with  three  sisters,  two  aunts,  and  a  score  of  she- 
cousins  !  " 

"  And  if, "  replied  Hastings,  more  and  more  unquiet 
under  the  duke's  truthful  irony,  —  "  if  I  were  now  come 
to  ask  the  king  permission  to  wed  —  " 

"  If  thou  wert,  —  and  the  bride-elect  were  a  lady,  with 
power  and  wealth  and  manifold  connections,  and  the 
practice  of  a  court,  thou  wouldst  be  the  mightiest  lord 
in  the  kingdom  since  Warwick's  exile." 

"  And  if  she  had  but  youth,  beauty,  and  virtue?  " 

"Oh,  then,  my  Lord  Hastings,  pray   thy   patron  saint 

1  Elizabeth  secured  to  her  brother,  Sir  Anthony,  the  greatest 
heiress  in  the  kingdom,  —  in  the  daughter  of  Lord  Scales  :  a  wife, 
by  the  way,  who  is  said  to  have  been  a  mere  child  at  the  time  of 
the  marriage. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         287 

for  a  war, —  for  in  peace  thou  wouldst  be  lost  amongst 
the  crowd.  But  truce  to  these  jests, —  for  thou  art  not 
the  man  to  prate  of  youth,  virtue,  and  such  like,  in  sober 
earnest,  amidst  this  work-day  world,  where  nothing  is 
young  and  nothing  virtuous,  —  and  listen  to  grave 
matters." 

The  duke  then  communicated  to  Hastings  the  last  ti- 
dings received  of  the  machinations  of  Warwick.  He  was 
in  high  spirits;  for  those  last  tidings  but  reported  Mar- 
garet's refusal  to  entertain  the  proposition  of  a  nuptial 
alliance  with  the  earl,  though,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  who  was  in  constant  correspondence 
with  his  spies,  wrote  word  that  Warwick  was  collecting 
provisions,  from  his  own  means,  for  more  than  60,000 
men;  and  that,  with  Lancaster  or  without,  the  earl  was 
prepared  to  match  his  own  family  interest  against  the 
armies  of  Edward. 

"  And, "  said  Hastings,  "  if  all  his  family  joined  with 
him,  what  foreign  king  could  be  so  formidable  an  invader  ? 
Maltravers  and  the  Mowbrays,  Fauconberg,  Westmore- 
land,  Fitzhugh,    Stanley,   Bonville,   Worcester  —  " 

"  But  happily, "  said  Gloucester,  "  the  Mowbrays  have 
been  allied  also  to  the  queen's  sister ;  Worcester  detests 
Warwick;  Stanley  always  murmurs  against  us,— a  sure 
sign  that  he  will  fight  for  us;  and  Bonville, —  I  have  in 
view  a  trusty  Yorkist  to  whom  the  retainers  of  that 
house  shall  be  assigned.  But  of  that  anon.  What  I 
now  wish  from  thy  wisdom  is,  to  aid  me  in  rousing 
Edward  from  his  lethargy ;  he  laughs  at  his  danger,  and 
neither  communicates  with  his  captains  nor  mans  his 
coasts.     His  courage  makes  him  a  dullard." 

After  some  farther  talk  on  these  heads,  and  more 
detailed  account  of  the  preparations  which  Gloucester 
deemed  necessary  to  urge  on  the  king,   the   duke,  then 


288         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

moving  his  chair  nearer  to  Hastings,  said,  with  a 
smile, — 

"  And  now,  Hastings,  to  thyself :  it  seems,  that  thou 
hast  not  heard  the  news  which  reached  us  four  days 
since :  the  Lord  Bonville  is  dead,  —  died  three  months 1 
ago  at  his  manor  house  in  Devon.  Thy  Katherine  is 
free,  and  in  London.     Well,  man,  where  is  thy  joy  1  " 

"  Time  is,  —  time  was  !  "  said  Hastings,  gloomily. 
"  The  day  has  passed  when  this  news  could  rejoice  me." 

"  Passed  !  nay,  thy  good  stars  themselves  have  fought 
for  thee  in  delay.  Seven  goodly  manors  swell  the  fair 
widow's  jointure ;  the  noble  dowry  she  brought  returns 
to  her.  Her  very  daughter  will  bring  thee  power. 
Young  Cecily  Bonville,  the  heiress,2  Lord  Dorset 
demands  in  betrothal.  Thy  wife  will  be  mother-in-law 
to  thy  queen's  son;  on  the  other  hand,  she  is  already 
aunt  to  the  Duchess  of  Clarence ;  and  George,  be  sure, 
sooner  or  later,  will  desert  Warwick,  and  win  his  pardon. 
Powerful  connections,  vast  possessions,  a  lady  of  immacu- 
late name  and  surpassing  beauty,  and  thy  first  love !  — 
(thy  hand  trembles  !  )  —  thy  first  love,  thy  sole  love, 
and  thy  last !  " 

"Prince,  prince!  forbear!  Even  if  so  —  in  brief, 
Katherine  loves  me  not !  " 

"  Thou  mistakest !  I  have  seen  her,  and  she  loves 
thee  not  the  less  because  her  virtue  so  long  concealed 
the  love." 

1  To  those  who  have  read  the  "  Paston  Letters,"  it  will  not  seem 
strange  that  in  that  day  the  death  of  a  nobleman  at  his  country 
seat  should  be  so  long  in  reaching  the  metropolis,  — the  ordinary 
purveyors  of  communication  were  the  itinerant  attendants  of  fairs. 
And  a  father  might  be  ignorant  for  months  together  of  the  death 
of  his  son. 

2  Afterwards  married  to  Dorset. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         289 

Hastings  littered  an  exclamation  of  passionate  joy, 
but  again  his  face  darkened. 

Gloucester  watched  him  in  silence;  besides  any 
motives  suggested  by  the  affection  he  then  sincerely 
bore  to  Hastings,  policy  might  well  interest  the  duke 
in  the  securing  to  so  loyal  a  Yorkist  the  hand  and  the 
wealth  of  Lord  Warwick's  sister;  but,  prudently  not 
pressing  the  subject  further,  he  said,  in  an  altered  and 
careless  voice,  "  Pardon  me  if  I  have  presumed  on 
matters  on  which  each  man  judges  for  himself.  But 
as,  despite  all  obstacle,  one  day  or  other  Anne  Nevile 
shall  be  mine,  it  would  have  delighted  me  to  know 
a  near  connection  in  Lord  Hastings.  And  now,  the 
hour  grows  late,  I  prithee  let  Edward  find  thee  in  his 
chamber. " 

When  Hastings  attended  the  king,  he  at  once  per- 
ceived that  Edward's  manner  was  changed  to  him.  At 
first,  he  attributed  the  cause  to  the  ill-offices  of  the 
queen  and  her  brother ;  but  the  king  soon  betrayed  the 
true  source  of  his  altered  humor. 

"  My  lord, "  he  said,  abruptly,  "  I  am  no  saint,  as 
thou  knowest;  but  there  are  some  ties,  par  amour, 
which,  in  my  mind,  become  not  knights  and  nobles 
about  a  king's  person." 

"  My  liege,  I  arede  you  not !  " 

"  Tush,  William !  "  replied  the  king,  more  gently ; 
"  thou  hast  more  than  once  wearied  me  with  application 
for  the  pardon  of  the  nigromancer  Warner,  —  the  whole 
court  is  scandalized  at  thy  love  for  his  daughter.  Thou 
hast  absented  thyself  from  thine  office  on  poor  pretexts ! 
I  know  thee  too  well  not  to  be  aware  that  love  alone 
can  make  thee  neglect  thy  king, —  thy  time  has  been 
spent  at  the  knees  or  in  the  arms  of  this  young  sorceress ! 
One  word  for  all  times, —  he  whom  a  witch  snares  cannot 

VOL.  II.  — 19 


290         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

be  a  king's  true  servant!  I  ask  of  thee  as  a  right,  or  as 
a  grace, — see  this  fair  ribaude  no  more!  What,  man, 
are  there  not  ladies  enough  in  merry  England,  that  thou 
shouldst  undo  thyself  for  so  unchristian  a  fere !  " 

"  My  king !  how  can  this  poor  maid  have  angered  thee 
thus  1  " 

"  Knowest  thou  not  "  —  began  the  king,  sharply,  and 
changing  color  as  he  eyed  his  favorite's  mournful 
astonishment,  — 

"  Ah,  well !  "  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  they  have 
been  discreet  hitherto,  but  how  long  will  they  be  so? 
I  am  in  time  yet.  It  is  enough, "  —  he  added,  aloud  and 
gravely  —  "  it  is  enough  that  our  learned a  Bungey  holds 
her  father  as  a  most  pestilent  wizard,  whose  spells  are 
muttered  for  Lancaster  and  the  rebel  Warwick;  that 
the  girl  hath  her  father's  unholy  gifts,  and  I  lay  my 
command  on  thee,  as  liege  king,  and  I  pray  thee,  as 
loving  friend,  to  see  no  more  either  child  or  sire !  Let 
this  suffice, —  and  now  I  will  hear  thee  on  state  matters." 

Whatever  Hastings  might  feel,  he  saw  that  it  was 
no  time  to  venture  remonstrance  with  the  king,  and 
strove  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and  speak  indifferently 
on  the  high  interests  to  which  Edward  invited  him; 
but  he  was  so  distracted  and  absent  that  he  made  but 
a  sorry  counsellor,  and  the  king,  taking  pity  on  him, 
dismissed  his  chamberlain  for  the  night. 

Sleep  came  not  to  the  couch  of  Hastings;  his  acute- 
ness  perceived  that  whatever  Edward's  superstition, 
and  he  was  a  devout  believer  in  witchcraft,  some  more 
worldly  motive  actuated  him  in  his  resentment  to  poor 
Sibyll.  But,  as  we  need  scarcely  say,  that  neither  from 
the  abstracted  Warner,  nor  his  innocent  daughter,    had 

1  It  will  be  remembered  that  Edward  himself  was  a  man  of  no 
learning. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         291 

Hastings  learned  the  true  cause,  he  wearied  himself 
with  vain  conjectures,  and  knew  not  that  Edward  invol- 
untarily did  homage  to  the  superior  chivalry  of  his 
gallant  favorite,  when  he  dreaded  that,  above  all  men, 
Hastings  should  be  made  aware  of  the  guilty  secret 
which  the  philosopher  and  his  child  could  tell.  If 
Hastings  gave  his  name  and  rank  to  Sibyll,  how  power- 
ful a  weight  would  the  tale  of  a  witness  now  so  obscure 
suddenly  acquire  ! 

Turning  from  the  image  of  Sibyll,  thus  beset  with 
thoughts  of  danger,  embarrassment,  humiliation,  dis- 
grace, ruin,  Lord  Hastings  recalled  the  words  of 
Gloucester:  and  the  stately  image  of  Katherine,  sur- 
rounded with  every  memory  of  early  passion,  —  every 
attribute  of  present  ambition,  —  rose  before  him;  and 
he  slept  at  last,  to  dream  —  not  of  Sibyll  and  the  humble 
orchard,  but  of  Katherine  in  her  maiden  bloom;  of  the 
trysting-tree,  by  the  halls  of  Middleham ;  of  the  broken 
ring;  of  the  rapture  and  the  woe  of  his  youth's  first 
high-placed  love. 


!92  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

The  Strife  which  Sibyll  had  courted,  between  Katherine  an  1  bar- 
self,  commences  in  serious  earnest. 

Hastings  felt  relieved  when,  the  next  clay,  several 
couriers  arrived,  with  tidings  so  important  as  to  merge 
all  considerations  into  those  of  state.  A  secret  mes- 
senger from  the  French  court  threw  Gloucester  into  one 
of  those  convulsive  passions  of  rage,  —  to  which,  with 
all  his  intellect  and  dissimulation,  he  was  sometimes 
subject,  —  by  the  news  of  Anne's  betrothal  to  Prince 
Edward ;  nor  did  the  letter  from  Clarence  to  the  king, 
attesting  the  success  of  one  of  his  schemes,  comfort 
Richard  for  the  failure  of  the  other.  A  letter  from 
Burgundy  confirmed  the  report  of  the  spy,  announced 
Duke  Charles's  intention  of  sending  a  fleet  to  prevent 
Warwick's  invasion,  and  rated  King  Edward  sharply 
for  his  supineness  in  not  preparing  suitably  against  so 
formidable  a  foe.  The  gay  and  reckless  presumption 
of  Edward,  worthier  of  a  knight-errant  than  a  monarch, 
laughed  at  the  word  Invasion.  "Pest  on  Burgundy's 
ships!  I  only  wish  that  the  earl  Avould  land!"1  he 
said  to  his  council.  None  echoed  the  wish!  But, 
later  in  the  day,  came  a  third  messenger  with  informa- 
tion that  roused  all  Edward's  ire;  careless  of  each 
danger  in  the  distance,  he  ever  sprang  into  energy  and 
vengeance  when  a  foe  was  already  in  the  field.  And 
the  Lord  Fitzhugh  (the  young  nobleman  before  seen 
among  the  rebels  at  Olney,  and  who  had  now  succeeded 

1  Com.  iii.  c.  5. 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  293 

to  the  honors  of  his  house)  had  suddenly  risen  in  the 
north,  at  the  head  of  a  formidable  rebellion.  No  man 
had  so  large  an  experience  in  the  warfare  of  those  dis- 
tricts, the  temper  of  the  people,  and  the  inclinations  of 
the  various  towns  and  lordships  as  Montagu ;  he  was  the 
natural  chief  to  depute  against  tbe  rebels.  Some  ani- 
mated discussion  took  place  as  to  the  dependence  to  be 
placed  in  the  marquis  at  sucb  a  crisis;  but  while  the 
more  wary  held  it  safer,  at  all  hazards,  not  to  leave  him 
unemployed,  and  to  command  his  services  in  an  expedi- 
tion that  would  remove  him  from  the  neighborhood  of 
his  brother,  should  the  latter  land,  as  was  expected,  on 
the  coast  of  Norfolk,  Edward,  with  a  blindness  of  con- 
ceit that  seems  almost  incredible,  believed  firmly  in  the 
infatuated  loyalty  of  the  man  whom  he  had  slighted  and 
impoverished,  and  whom,  by  his  offer  of  his  daughter 
to  the  Lancastrian  prince,  he  had  yet  more  recently 
cozened  and  deluded.  Montagu  was  hastily  summoned, 
and  received  orders  to  march  at  once  to  the  north,  levy 
forces,  and  assume  their  command.  The  marquis  obeyed 
with  fewer  words  than  were  natural  to  him,  —  left  the 
presence,  sprang  on  his  horse,  and  as  he  rode  from  the 
palace,  drew  a  letter  from  his  bosom.  "  Ah,  Edward," 
said  he,  setting  his  teeth  ;  "  so,  after  the  solemn  betrothal 
of  thy  daughter  to  my  son,  thou  wouldst  have  given  her 
to  thy  Lancastrian  enemy.  Coward,  to  bribe  his  peace! 
—  recreant,  to  belie  thy  word!  1  thank  thee  for  this 
news,  Warwick;  for,  without  that  injury,  I  feel  I  could 
never,  when  the  hour  came,  have  drawn  sword  against 
this  faithless  man, — especially  for  Lancaster.  Ay, 
tremble  thou  who  deridest  all  truth  and  honor!  He 
who  himself  betrays,  cannot  call  vengeance,  treason!  " 

Meanwhile,    Edward    departed,    for    farther    prepara- 
tions, to  the  Tower  of  London.     New  evidences  of  the 


294         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

mine  beneath  his  feet  here  awaited  the  incredulous 
king.  On  the  door  of  St.  Paul's,  of  many  of  the 
metropolitan  churches,  on  the  Standard  at  Chepe,  and 
on  London  Bridge,  during  the  past  night  had  been 
affixed,  none  knew  by  whom,  the  celebrated  proclama- 
tion, signed  by  Warwick  and  Clarence  (drawn  up  in  the 
bold  style  of  the  earl),  announcing  their  speedy  return, 
containing  a  brief  and  vigorous  description  of  the  mis- 
rule of  the  realm,  and  their  determination  to  reform  all 
evils  and  redress  all  wrongs.1  Though  the  proclama- 
tion named  not  the  restoration  of  the  Lancastrian  line 
(doubtless  from  regard  for  Henry's  safety),  all  men  in 
the  metropolis  were  already  aware  of  the  formidable 
league  between  Margaret  and  Warwick.  Yet,  even 
still,  Edward  smiled  in  contempt,  for  he  had  faith  in 
the  letter  received  from  Clarence,  and  felt  assured  that 
the  moment  the  duke  and  the  earl  landed,  the  former 
would  betray  his  companion  stealthily  to  the  king;  so, 
despite  all  these  exciting  subjects  of  grave  alarm,  the 
nightly  banquet  at  the  Tower  was  never  merrier  and 
more  joyous.  Hastings  left  the  feast  ere  it  deepened 
into  revel,  and,  absorbed  in  various  and  profound  con- 
templation, entered  his  apartment.  He  threw  himself 
on  a  seat,  and  leaned  his  face  on  his  hands. 

"Oh,  no  —  no!"  he  muttered,  "now,  in  the  hour 
when  true  greatness  is  most  seen,  —  when  prince  and 
peer  crowd  around  me  for  counsel;  when  noble,  knight, 
and  squire  crave  permission  to  march  in  the  troop  of 
which  Hastings  is  the  leader, — now  I  feel  how  impos- 
sible, how  falsely  fair,  the  dream  that  I  could  forget 
all  —  all  for  a  life  of  obscurity  —  for  a  young  girl's 
love !     Love  !  as  if  I  had  not  felt  its  delusions  to  pall- 

1  See  for  this  proclamation,  Ellis's  "  Original  Letters,"  vol.  i., 
second  series,  letter  42. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  295 

ing!  love,  as  if  I  could  love  again;  or,  if  love,  —  alas, 
it  must  be  a  light  reflected  but  from  memory  !  And 
Katherine  is  free  once  more ! "  His  eye  fell  as  lie 
spoke,  perhaps  in  shame  and  remorse,  that,  feeling 
thus  now,  he  had  felt  so  differently  when  he  bade 
Sibyll  smile  till  his  return ! 

"  It  is  the  air  of  this  accursed  court  which  taints  our 
best  resolves!"  he  murmured,  as  an  apology  for  him- 
self; but  scarcely  was  the  poor  excuse  made  than  the 
murmur  broke  into  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  joy. 
A  letter  lay  before  him,  —  he  recognized  the  hand  of 
Katherine.  What  years  had  passed  since  her  writing 
had  met  his  eye,  since  the  lines  that  bade  him  "  fare- 
well, and  forget!  "  Those  lines  had  been  blotted  with 
tears,  and  these,  as  he  tore  open  the  silk  that  bound 
them,  —  these,  the  trace  of  tears,  too,  was  on  them! 
Yet  they  were  but  few,  and  in  tremulous  characters. 
They  ran  thus :  — 

"  To-morrow,  before  noon,  the  Lord  Hastings  is  prayed  to 
visit  one  whose  life  he  hath  saddened  by  the  thought  and  the 
accusation  that  she  hath  clouded  and  imbittered  his. 

"Katherine  de  Bonville." 

Leaving  Hastings  to  such  meditations  of  fear  or  of 
hope,  as  these  lines  could  call  forth,  we  lead  the  reader 
to  a  room  not  very  distant  from  his  own,  —  the  room  of 
the  illustrious  Friar  Bungey. 

The  ex-tregetour  was  standing  before  the  captured 
Eureka,  and  gazing  on  it  with  an  air  of  serio-comic 
despair  and  rage.  We  say  the  Eureka,  as  comprising 
all  the  ingenious  contrivances  towards  one  single  object 
invented  by  its  maker,  an  harmonious  compound  of 
many  separate  details ;  —  but  the  iron  creature  no  longer 
deserved  that  superb  appellation,  for  its  various  mem- 


296         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

bers  were  now  disjointed  and  dislocated,  and  lay  pell- 
mell  in  multiform  confusion. 

By  the  side  of  the  friar  stood  a  female,  enveloped  in 
a  long,  scarlet  mantle,  with  the  hood  partially  drawn 
over  the  face,  hut  still  leaving  visible  the  hard,  thin, 
villanous  lips,  the  stern,  sharp  chin,  and  the  jaw  reso- 
lute and  solid  as  if  hewn  from  stone. 

"  I  tell  thee,  Graul,"  said  the  friar,  "  that  thou  hast 
had  far  the  best  of  the  bargain.  I  have  put  this 
diabolical  contrivance  to  all  manner  of  shapes,  and 
have  muttered  over  it  enough  Latin  to  have  charmed 
a  monster  into  civility.  And  the  accursed  thing,  after 
nearly  pinching  off  three  fingers,  and  scalding  me  with 
seething  water,  and  spluttering  and  spattering  enough 
to  have  terrified  any  man  but  Friar  Bungey  out  of  his 
skin,  is  obstlnatus  ut  mulus,  —  dogged  as  a  mule;  and 
was  absolutely  good  for  nought,  till  [  happily  thought 
of  separating  this  vessel  from  all  the  rest  of  the  gear, 
and  it  serves  now  for  the  boiling  my  eggs !  But,  by 
the  soul  of  Father  Merlin,  whom  the  saints  assoil, 
I  need  not  have  given  myself  all  this  torment  for 
a  thing  which,  at  best,  does  the  Avork  of  a  farthing 
pipkin  !  " 

"  Quick,  master;  the  hour  is  late!  I  must  go  while 
yet  the  troopers,  and  couriers,  and  riders,  hurrying  to 
and  fro,  keep  the  gates  from  closing.  What  wantest 
thou  with  Graul?" 

"  More  reverence,  child !  "  growled  the  friar.  "  What 
I  want  of  thee  is  briefly  told,  if  thou  hast  the  wit  to 
serve  me.  This  miserable  Warner  must  himself  expound 
to  me  the  uses  and  trick  of  his  malignant  contrivance. 
Thou  must  find  and  bring  him  hither !  " 

"  And  if  he  will  not  expound  1  " 

"  The  deputy-governor  of  the  Tower  will  lend  me  a 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAEONS.         297 

stone  dungeon,  and,  if  need  be,  the  use  of  the  brake  to 
unlock  the  dotard's  tongue." 

"  On  what  plea  1  " 

"  That  Adam  Warner  is  a  wizard,  in  the  pay  of  Lord 
Warwick,  whom  a  more  mighty  master  like  myself 
alone  can  duly  examine  and  defeat." 

"  And  if  I  bring  thee  the  sorcerer,  —  what  wilt  thou 
teach  me  in  return  1  " 

"  What  desirest  thou  most  1  " 

Graul  mused,  and  said,  "  There  is  war  in  the  wind. 
Graul  follows  the  camp,  —  her  trooper  gets  gold  and 
booty.  But  the  trooper  is  stronger  than  Graul;  and 
when  the  trooper  sleeps,  it  is  with  his  knife  by  his 
side,  and  his  sleep  is  light  and  broken,  for  he  has 
wicked  dreams.  Give  me  a  potion  to  make  sleep  deep, 
that  his  eyes  may  not  open  when  Graul  filches  his  gold, 
and  his  hand  may  be  too  heavy  to  draw  the  knife  from 
its  sheath !  " 

"  Immunda  —  detestabilis  !  —  thine  own  paramour  !  " 

"  He  hath  beat  me  with  his  bridle-rein,  he  hath  given 
a  silver  broad  piece  to  Grisell ;  Grisell  hath  sat  on  his 
knee  :  Graul  never  pardons  !  " 

The  friar,  rogue  as  he  was,  shuddered.  "  I  cannot 
help  thee  to  murder,  I  cannot  give  thee  the  potion; 
name  some  other  reward." 

"I  go-" 

"Nay,  nay,  — think,  pause." 

"  I  know  where  Warner  is  hid.  By  this  hour  to- 
morrow night,  I  can  place  him  in  thy  power.  Say  the 
word,  and  pledge  me  the  draught." 

"Well,  well,  mulier  abominabllh !  —  that  is,  irre- 
sistible bonnibel.  I  cannot  give  thee  the  potion;  but 
I  will  teach  thee  an  art  which  can  make  sleep  heavier 
than  the  anodyne,  and  which  wastes  not  like  the  essence, 


298         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

but  strengthens  by  usage ;  an  art  thou  shalt  have  at  thy 
fingers'  ends,  and  which  often  draws  from  the  sleeper 
the  darkest  secrets  of  his  heart."1 

"  It  is  magic,"  said  Graul,  with  joy. 

"  Ay,  magic." 

"I  will  bring  thee  the  wizard.  But  listen;  he 
never  stirs  abroad,  save  with  his  daughter.  I  must 
bring  both." 

"  Nay ;  I  want  not  the  girl." 

"  But  I  dare  not  throttle  her,  for  a  great  lord  loves 
her,  —  who  would  find  out  the  deed  and  avenge  it;  and, 
if  she  be  left  behind,  she  will  go  to  the  lord,  and  the 
lord  will  discover  what  thou  hast  done  with  the  wizard, 
and  thou  wilt  hang  !  " 

"  Never  say  '  hang  '  to  me,  Graul;  it  is  ill-mannered 
and  ominous.      Who  is  the  lord  1  " 

"  Hastings. " 

"  pest !  —  and  already  he  hath  been  searching  for  the 
thing  yonder;  and  I  have  brooded  over  it  night  and 
day,  like  a  hen  over  a  chalk  egg,  —  only  that  the  egg 
does  not  snap  off  the  hen's  claws,  as  that  diabolism 
would  fain  snap  off  my  digits.  But  the  war  will  carry 
Hastings  away  in  its  whirlwind;  and,  in  danger,  the 
duchess  is  my  slave,  and  will  bear  me  through  all.  So, 
thou  mayst  bring  the  girl:  and  strangle  her  not;  for 
no  good  ever  comes  of  a  murder,  —  unless,  indeed,  it  be 
absolutely  necessary  !  " 

"  I  know  the  men  who  will  help  me ,  —  bold  ribands, 
whom  I  will  guerdon  myself;  for  I  want  not  thy  coins, 
but  thy  craft.  When  the  curfew  has  tolled,  and  the 
bat  hunts  the  moth,  we  will  bring  thee  the  quarry  —  " 

1  We  have  before  said  that  animal  magnetism  was  known  to 
Bnngey,  and  familiar  to  the  necromancers,  or  rather  theurgists,  of 
the  middle  ages. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   B AEONS.  299 

Graul  turned ;  but,  as  she  gained  the  door,  she  stopped, 
and  said  abruptly,  throwing  back  her  hood,  — 

"  What  age  dost  thou  deem  me '?  " 

"  Marry,"  quoth  the  friar,  —  "  an  I  had  not  seen  thee 
on  thy  mother's  knee,  when  she  followed  my  stage  of 
Tregetour,  I  should  have  guessed  thee  for  thirty,  but 
thou  hast  led  too  jolly  a  life  to  look  still  in  the  blossom, 
—  why  speer'st  thou  the  question  1  " 

"  Because,  when  trooper  and  riband  say  tome,'  Graul, 
thou  art  too  worn  and  too  old  to  drink  of  our  cup  and  sit 
in  the  lap,  to  follow  the  young  fere  to  the  battle,  and 
weave  the  blithe  dance  in  the  fair,'  I  would  depart 
from  my  sisters,  and  have  a  hut  of  my  own,  —  and  a 
black  cat  without  a  white  hair;  and  steal  herbs  by  the 
new  moon,  and  bones  from  the  charnel ;  and  curse  those 
whom  I  hate, — and  cleave  the  misty  air  on  a  besom, 
like  Mother  Halkin,  of  Edmonton.  Ha,  ha!  Master, 
thou  shalt  present  me,  then,  to  the  Sabbat.  Graul  has 
the  metal  for  a  bonny  witch  !  " 

The  tymbestere  vanished  with  a  laugh.  The  friar 
muttered  a  paternoster,  for  once,  perchance,  devoutly; 
and,  after  having  again  deliberately  scanned  the  disjecta 
membra  of  the  Eureka,  gravely  took  forth  a  duck's  egg 
'from  his  cupboard,  and  applied  the  master-agent  of  the 
machine,  which  Warner  hoped  was  to  change  the  face  of 
the  globe,  to  the  only  practical  utility  it  possessed  to  the 
mountebank's  comprehension. 


300         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Meeting  of  Hastings  and  Katlierine. 

The  next  morning,  while  Edward  was  engaged  in  levy- 
ing from  his  opulent  citizens  all  the  loans  he  could 
extract,  knowing  that  gold  is  the  sinew  of  war;  while 
Worcester  was  manning  the  fortress  of  the  Tower,  in 
which  the  queen,  then  near  her  confinement,  was  to 
reside  during  the  campaign ;  while  Gloucester  was  writ- 
ing commissions  to  captains  and  barons  to  raise  men ; 
while  Sir  Anthony  Lord  Rivers  was  ordering  improve- 
ments in  his  dainty  damasquine  armor,  and  the  whole 
Fortress  Palatine  was  animated  and  alive  with  the  stir 
of  the  coming  strife,  —  Lord  Hastings  escaped  from  the 
bustle,  and  repaired  to  the  house  of  Katlierine.  With 
what  motive,  with  what  intentions,  was  not  knoAvn 
clearly  to  himself;  —  perhaps,  for  there  was  bitterness 
in  his  very  love  for  Katlierine,  to  enjoy  the  retaliation 
due  to  his  own  wounded  pride,  and  say  to  the  idol  of 
his  youth,  as  he  had  said  to  Gloucester,  "Time  is, — 
time  was  ;  "  perhaps,  with  some  remembrance  of  the  faith 
due  to  Sibyll,  wakened  up  the  more  now  that  Katlierine 
seemed  actually  to  escape  from  the  ideal  image  into  the 
real  woman,  —  to  be  easily  wooed  and  won.  But,  cer- 
tainly, SibylFs  case  was  not  wholly  lost,  though  greatly 
shaken  and  endangered,  when  Lord  Hastings  alighted 
at  Lady  Bonville's  gate;  but  his  face  gradually  grew 
paler,  his  mien  less  assured,  as  he  drew  near  and  nearer 
to  the  apartment  and  the  presence  of  the  widowed 
Katlierine. 


THE    LAST    OF   THE    BARONS.  301 

She  was  seated  alone,  and  in  the  same  room  in  which 
he  had  last  seen  her.  Her  deep  mourning  only  served, 
by  contrasting  the  pale  and  exquisite  clearness  of  her 
complexion,  to  enhance  her  beauty.  Hastings  bowed 
low,  and  seated  himself  by  her  side  in  silence. 

The  Lady  of  Bonville  eyed  him  for  some  moments 
with  an  unutterable  expression  of  melancholy  and  ten- 
derness. All  her  pride  seemed  to  have  gone;  the  very 
character  of  her  face  was  changed:  grave  severity  had 
become  soft  timidity,  and  stately  self-control  was  broken 
into  the  unmistaken  struggle  of  hope  and  fear. 

"Hastings, —  William!"  she  said,  in  a  gentle  and 
low  whisper,  and,  at  the  sound  of  that  last  name  from 
those  lips,  the  noble  felt  his  veins  thrill  and  his  heart 
throb.  "If,"  she  continued,  "the  step  I  have  taken 
seems  to  thee  unwomanly  and  too  bold,  know,  at  least, 
what  was  my  design  and  my  excuse.  There  was  a  time  " 
(and  Katherine  blushed)  "  when,  thou  knowest  well 
that,  had  this  hand  been  mine  to  bestow,  it  would 
have  been  his  who  claimed  the  half  of  this  ring."  And 
Katherine  took  from  a  small  crystal  casket  the  well- 
remembered  token. 

"  The  broken  ring  foretold  but  the  broken  troth,"  said 
Hastings,  averting  his  face. 

"  Thy  conscience  rebukes  thy  words,"  replied  Kath- 
erine, sadly;  "  I  pledged  my  faith,  if  thou  couldst  win 
my  father's  word.  What  maid,  and  that  maid  a  Nevile, 
could  so  forget  duty  and  honor  as  to  pledge  thee  more  ? 
We  were  severed.  Pass  —  oh,  pass  over  that  time! 
My  father  loved  me  dearly ;  but  when  did  pride  and 
ambition  ever  deign  to  take  heed  of  the  wild  fancies  of 
a  girl's  heart?  Three  suitors,  wealthy  lords,  — whose 
alliance  gave  strength  to  my  kindred,  in  the  day  when 
their  very  lives  depended  on  their  swords,  —  were  rivals 


302         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

for  Earl  Salisbury's  daughter.  Earl  Salisbury  bade  his 
daughter  choose.  Thy  great  friend,  and  my  own  kins- 
man, Duke  Richard  of  York,  himself  pleaded  for  thy 
rivals.  He  proved  to  me  that  my  disobedience  —  if, 
indeed,  for  the  first  time,  a  child  of  my  house  could 
disobey  its  chief  —  would  be  an  eternal  barrier  to  thy 
fortune;  that  while  Salisbury  was  thy  foe,  he  himself 
could  not  forward  thy  valiancy  and  merit;  that  it  was 
with  me  to  forward  thy  ambition,  though  I  could  not 
reward  thy  love;  that,  from  the  hour  I  was  another's, 
my  mighty  kinsmen  themselves  —  for  they  were  gen- 
erous —  would  be  the  first  to  aid  the  duke  in  thy  career. 
Hastings,  even  then,  I  would  have  prayed,  at  least,  to 
be  the  bride,  not  of  man,  but  God.  But  I  was  trained 
—  as  what  noble  demoiselle  is  not?  —  to  submit  wholly 
to  a  parent's  welfare  and  his  will.  As  a  nun,  I  could 
but  pray  for  the  success  of  my  father's  cause;  as  a  wife, 
I  should  bring  to  Salisbury  and  to  York  the  retainers 
and  the  strongholds  of  a  baron !  I  obeyed.  Hear  me 
on.  Of  the  three  suitors  for  my  hand,  two  were  young 
and  gallant,  —  women  deemed  them  fair  and  comely ; 
and  had  my  choice  been  one  of  these,  thou  mightest 
have  deemed  that  a  new  love  had  chased  the  old.  Since 
choice  was  mine,  I  chose  the  man  love  could  not  choose, 
and  took  this  sad  comfort  to  my  heart,  — '  He,  the  for- 
saken Hastings,  will  see,  in  my  very  choice,  that  I  was 
but  the  slave  of  duty;  my  choice  itself  my  penance.'  " 

Katherine  paused,  and  tears  dropped  fast  from  her 
eyes.  Hastings  held  his  hand  over  his  countenance, 
and  only  by  the  heaving  of  his  heart  was  his  emotion 
visible.      Katherine  resumed:  — 

"  Once  wedded,  I  knew  what  became  a  wife.  We  met 
again ;  and  to  thy  first  disdain  and  anger,  —  (which  it 
had  been  dishonor  in  me  to  soothe  by  one  word  that 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         303 

said,  '  The  wife  remembers  the  maiden's  love  '  ) ,  —  to 
these,  thy  first  emotions,  succeeded  the  more  cruel 
revenge,  which  would  have  changed  sorrow  and  strug- 
gle to  remorse,  and  shame.  And  then,  then, — weak 
woman  that  I  Avas,  —  I  wrapped  myself  in  scorn  and 
pride.  Nay,  I  felt  deep  anger  —  was  it  unjust?  —  that 
thou  couldst  so  misread,  and  so  repay,  the  heart  which 
had  nothing  left,  save  virtue,  to  compensate  for  love. 
And  yet,  yet,  often  when  thou  didst  deem  me  most 
hard,  most  proof  against  memory  and  feeling  —  but 
why  relate  the  trial?  Heaven  supported  me,  and  if 
thou  lovest  me  no  longer,  thou  canst  not  despise  me." 

At  these  last  words  Hastings  was  at  her  feet,  bending 
over  her  hand,  and  stifled  by  his  emotions.  Katherine 
gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  through  her  own  tears,  and 
then  resumed:  — 

"But  thou  hadst,  as  man,  consolations  no  woman 
would  desire  or  covet.  And  oh,  what  grieved  me  most 
was,  not  —  no,  not  the  jealous,  the  wounded  vanity; 
but  it  was  at  least  this  self-accusation,  this  remorse, 
that  —  but  for  one  goading  remembrance,  of  love 
returned  and  love  forsaken  —  thou  hadst  never  so 
descended  from  thy  younger  nature,  never  so  trifled 
with  the  solemn  trust  of  Time.  Ah,  when  I  have 
heard,  or  seen,  or  fancied  one  fault  in  thy  maturer 
manhood,  unworthy  of  thy  bright  youth,  anger  of 
myself  has  made  me  bitter  and  stern  to  thee ;  and  if 
I  taunted,  or  chid,  or  vexed  thy  pride,  how  little  didst 
thou  know  that  through  the  too  shrewish  humor  spoke 
the  too  soft  remembrance!  For  this,  for  this;  and 
believing  that  through  all,  alas!  my  image  was  not 
replaced,  —  when  my  hand  was  free,  I  was  grateful  that 
I  might  still  —  "  the  lady's  pale  cheek  grew  brighter 
than  the  rose,  her  voice  faltered,  and  became  low  and 


304  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

indistinct)  —  "I  might  still  think  it  mine  to  atone  to 
thee  for  the  past.  And  if,"  she  added,  with  a  sudden 
and  generous  energy,  —  "if  in  this  I  have  bowed  my 
pride,  it  is  because  by  pride  thou  wert  wounded;  and 
now  at  last,   thou  hast  a  just  revenge." 

Oh,  terrible  rival  for  thee,  lost  Sibyll!  Was  it  won- 
derful that,  while  that  head  drooped  upon  his  breast, 
while  in  that  enchanted  change  which  Love  the  softener 
makes  in  lips  long  scornful,  eyes  long  proud  and 
cold,  he  felt  that  Katherine  Nevile  —  tender,  gentle, 
frank  without  boldness,  lofty  without  arrogance  —  had 
replaced  the  austere  dame  of  Bonville,  whom  he  half- 
hated  while  he  wooed,  —  oh,  was  it  wonderful  that  the 
sold  of  Hastings  fled  back  to  the  old  time,  forgot  the 
intervening  vows,  and  more  chill  affections,  and  repeated 
only  with  passionate  lips,  "  Katherine,  loved  still,  loved 
ever,  —  mine,  mine,  at  last!  " 

Then  followed  delicious  silence, — then  vows,  con- 
fessions, questions,  answers:  the  thrilling  interchange 
of  hearts  long  divided,  and  now  rushing  into  one.  And 
time  rolled  on,  till  Katherine,  gently  breaking  from 
her  lover,  said,  — 

"  And  now,  that  thou  hast  the  right  to  know  and 
guide  my  projects,  approve,  I  pray  thee,  my  present 
purpose.  War  awaits  thee,  and  we  must  part  awhile!  " 
At  these  words  her  brow  darkened,  and  her  lip  quiv- 
ered. "  Oh,  that  I  should  have  lived  to  mourn  the  day 
when  Lord  Warwick,  untrue  to  Salisbury  and  to  York, 
joined  his  arms  with  Lancaster  and  Margaret,  —  the 
day  when  Katherine  could  blush  for  the  brother  she  had 
deemed  the  glory  of  her  house!  No,  no"  (she  con- 
tinued, as  Hastings  interrupted  her  with  generous 
excuses  for  the  earl,  and  allusion  to  the  known  slights 
he  had  received), — "no,  no;  make  not  his  cause  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         305 

worse,  by  telling  me  that  an  unworthy  pride,  the  grudge 
of  some  thwart  to  his  policy  or  power,  has  made  him 
forget  what  was  due  to  the  memory  of  his  kinsman 
York,  to  the  mangled  corpse  of  his  father  Salisbury. 
Thinkest  thou,  that  but  for  this,  I  could  —  "  She 
stopped,  but  Hastings  divined  her  thought,  and  guessed 
that,  if  spoken,  it  had  run  thus:  —  "  That  I  could,  even 
now,  have  received  the  homage  of  one  who  departs  to 
meet,  with  banner  and  clarion,  my  brother  as  his  foe?  " 
The  lovely  sweetness  of  the  late  expression  had  gone 
from  Katherine's  face,  and  its  aspect  showed  that  her 
high  and  ancestral  spirit  had  yielded  but  to  one  passion. 
She  pursued,  — 

"  While  this  strife  lasts,  it  becomes  my  widowhood, 
and  kindred  position  with  the  earl,  to  retire  to  the 
convent  my  mother  founded.     To-morrow  I  depart." 

"  Alas !  "  said  Hastings,  "  thou  speakest  of  the  strife 
as  if  but  a  single  field.  But  Warwick  returns  not  to 
these  shores,  nor  bows  himself  to  league  with  Lancaster, 
—  for  a  chance  hazardous  and  desperate ,  as  Edward  too 
rashly  deems  it.  It  is  in  vain  to  deny  that  the  earl  is 
prepared  for  a  grave  and  lengthened  war,  and  much  I 
doubt  whether  Edward  can  resist  his  power;  for  the 
idolatry  of  the  very  land  will  swell  the  ranks  of  so 
dread  a  rebel.  What  if  he  succeed,  —  what  if  we  be 
driven  into  exile,  as  Henry's  friends  before  us;  what 
if  the  king-maker  be  the  king-dethroner  1  —  then,  Kath- 
erine,  then  once  more  thou  wilt  be  at  the  hest  of  thy 
hostile  kindred,  and  once  more,  dowered  as  thou  art, 
and  thy  womanhood  still  in  its  richest  bloom,  thy  hand 
will  be  lost  to  Hastings." 

"Nay,  if  that  be  all  thy  fear,  take  with  thee  this 
pledge :  that  Warwick's  treason  to  the  house  for  which 
my  father  fell,  dissolves  his  power  over  one  driven  to 
vol.  ii.  — 20 


306         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

disown  him  as  a  brother,  —  knowing  Earl  Salisbury, 
had  he  foreseen  such  disgrace,  had  disowned  him  as 
a  son.  And  if  there  be  defeat,  and  flight,  and  exile, 
—  wherever  thou  wanderest,  Hastings,  shall  Katherine 
be  found  beside  thee.  Fare  thee  well,  and  our  Lady 
shield  thee :  may  thy  lance  be  victorious  against  all 
foes, — save  one.  Thou  wilt  forbear  my  —  that  is, 
the  earl!"  And  Katherine,  softened  at  that  thought, 
sobbed  aloud. 

"  And  come  triumph  or  defeat,  I  have  thy  pledge?" 
said  Hastings,   soothing  her. 

"  See,"  said  Katherine,  taking  the  broken  ring  from 
the  casket;  "now,  for  the  first  time  since  I  bore  the 
name  of  Bonville,  I  lay  this  relic  on  my  heart,  —  art 
thou  answered  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         307 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Hastings  learns  what  has  befallen  Sibyll  —  Repairs  to  the  King, 
and  encounters  an  Old  Rival. 

i 

"  It  is  destiny, "  said  Hastings  to  himself,  when  early 
the  next  morning  he  was  on  his  road  to  the  farm, —  "  it 
is  destiny ;  and  who  can  resist  his  fate  1  " 

"  It  is  destiny !  "  —  phrase  of  the  weak  human  heart ! 
"It  is  destiny!"  dark  apology  for  every  error!  The 
strong  and  the  virtuous  admit  no  destiny !  On  earth, 
guides  Conscience, —  in  heaven  watches  God.  And 
Destiny  is  but  the  phantom  we  invoke  to  silence  the  one, 
to  dethrone  the  other  ! 

Hastings  spared  not  his  good  steed.  With  great  diffi- 
culty had  he  snatched  a  brief  respite  from  imperious 
business,  to  accomplish  the  last  poor  duty  now  left  to 
him  to  fulfil,  —  to  confront  the  maid  whose  heart  he  had 
seduced  in  vain,  and  say,  at  length,  honestly  and  firmly, 
"  I  cannot  wed  thee.     Forget  me,  and  farewell. " 

Doubtless,  his  learned  and  ingenious  mind  conjured 
up  softer  words  than  these,  and  more  purfled  periods 
wherein  to  dress  the  iron  truth.  But  in  these  two 
sentences  the  truth  lay.  He  arrived  at  the  farm,  he 
entered  the  house,  —  he  felt  it  as  a  reprieve,  that  he  met 
not  the  bounding  step  of  the  welcoming  Sibyll.  He  sat 
down  in  the  humble  chamber,  and  waited  awhile  in 
patience,  —  no  voice  was  heard.  The  silence  at  length 
surprised  and  alarmed  him.  He  proceeded  farther.  He 
was  met  by  the  widowed  owner  of  the  house,  who  was 
weeping;  and  her  first  greeting  prepared  him  for  what 
had  chanced.     "  Oh,  my  lord,  you  have  come  to  tell  me 


308         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

they  are  safe, —  they  have  not  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
their  enemies:  the  good  gentleman,  so  meek, —  the  poor 
lady,  so  fair  !  " 

Hastings  stood  aghast, —  a  few  sentences  more  ex- 
plained all  that  he  already  guessed.  A  strange  man 
had  arrived  the  evening  hefore  at  the  house,  praying 
Adam  and  his  daughter  to  accompany  him  to  the  Lord 
Hastings,  who  had  heen  thrown  from  his  horse,  and 
was  now  in  a  cottage  in  the  neighboring  lane,  —  not  hurt 
dangerously,  but  unable  to  be  removed,  —  and  who  had 
urgent  matters  to  communicate.  Not  questioning  the 
truth  of  this  story,  Adam  and  Sibyll  had  hurried  forth, 
and  returned  no  more.  Alarmed  by  their  long  absence, 
the  widow,  who  had  first  received  the  message  from  the 
stranger,  went  herself  to  the  cottage,  and  found  that  the 
story  was  a  fable.  Every  search  had  since  been  made 
for  Adam  and  his  daughter,  but  in  vain.  The  widow, 
confirmed  in  her  previous  belief  that  her  lodgers  had 
been  attainted  Lancastrians,  could  but  suppose  that  they 
had  been  thus  betrayed  to  their  enemies.  Hastings 
heard  this  with  a  dismay  and  remorse  impossible  to  ex- 
press. His  only  conjecture  was,  that  the  king  had  dis- 
covered their  retreat,  and  taken  this  measure  to  break 
off  the  intercourse  he  had  so  sternly  denounced.  Full 
of  these  ideas,  he  hastily  remounted,  and  stopped  not 
till  once  more  at  the  gates  of  the  Tower.  Hastening  to 
Edward's  closet,  the  moment  he  saw  the  king,  he  ex- 
claimed, in  great  emotion,  "My  liege  —  my  liege,  do 
not,  at  this  hour,  when  I  have  need  of  my  whole  energy 
to  serve  thee,  do  not  madden  my  brain,  and  palsy  my 
arm.  This  old  man  —  the  poor  maid  • —  Sibyll  —  Warner 
—  speak,  my  liege  —  only  tell  me  they  are  safe  —  promise 
me  they  shall  go  free,  and  I  swear  to  obey  thee  in  all 
else !     I  will  thank  thee  in  the  battle-field  !  " 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  309 

"  Thou  art  mad,  Hastings !  "  said  the  king,  in  great 
astonishment. —  "Hush!"  and  he  glanced  significantly 
at  a  person  who  stood  before  several  heaps  of  gold, 
ranged  upon  a  table  in  the  recess  of  the  room.  —  "  See, " 
he  whispered,  "  yonder  is  the  goldsmith,  who  hath 
brought  me  a  loan  from  himself  and  his  fellows !  — 
Pretty  tales  for  the  city  thy  folly  will  send  abroad  !  " 

But  before  Hastings  could  vent  his  impatient  answer, 
this  person,  to  Edward's  still  greater  surprise,  had  ad- 
vanced from  his  place,  and  forgetting  all  ceremony,  had 
seized  Hastings  by  the  hem  of  his  surcoat,  exclaiming, — ■ 

"  My  lord,  my  lord,  —  what  new  horror  is  this  ?  — 
Sibyll !  —  methought  she  was  worthless,  and  had  fled  to 
thee!" 

"  Ten  thousand  devils !  "  shouted  the  king,  —  "  am  I 
ever  to  be  tormented  by  that  damnable  wizard  and  his 
witch  child?  And  is  it,  Sir  Peer  and  Sir  Goldsmith, 
in  your  king's  closet  that  ye  come,  the  very  eve  before 
he  marches  to  battle,  to  speer  and  glower  at  each  other 
like  two  madmen  as  ye  are  ?  " 

Neither  peer  nor  goldsmith  gave  way,  till  the  courtier, 
naturally  recovering  himself  the  first,  fell  on  his  knee, 
and  said,  with  firm,  though  profound  respect,  "  Sire,  if 
poor  William  Hastings  has  ever  merited  from  the  king 
one  kindly  thought,  one  generous  word,  forgive  now 
whatever  may  displease  thee  in  his  passion  or  his  suit, 
and  tell  him  what  prison  contains  those  whom  it  would 
forever  dishonor  his  knighthood  to  know  punished  and 
endangered  but  for  his  offence. " 

"  My  lord !  "  answered  the  king,  softened,  but  still 
surprised,  "  think  you  seriously  that  I,  who  but  reluc- 
tantly, in  this  lovely  month,  leave  my  green  lawns  of 
Shene,  to  save  a  crown,  could  have  been  vexing  my 
brain  by  stratagems  to  seize  a  lass,  —  whom  I  swear  by 


310         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAROXS. 

St.  George  I  do  not  envy  thee  in  the  least  1  If  that  does 
not  suffice,  incredulous  dullard,  why  then  take  my  kingly 
word,  never  before  passed  for  so  slight  an  occasion,  that 
I  know  nothing  whatsoever  of  thy  damsel's  where- 
about, nor  her  pestilent  father's,  — where  they  abode 
of  late,  where  they  now  be,  and,  what  is  more,  if  any 
man  has  usurped  his  king's  right  to  imprison  the  king's 
subjects,  find  him  out,  and  name  his  punishment.  Art 
thou  convinced  1  " 

"  I  am,  my  liege, "  said  Hastings. 

"  But  —  "  began  the  goldsmith. 

"  Holloa,  you,  too,  sir!  This  is  too  much  !  We  have 
condescended  to  answer  the  man  who  arms  three  thou- 
sand retainers  —  " 

"  And  I,  please  your  Highness,  bring  you  the  gold  to 
pay  them,"  said  the  trader,  bluntly. 

The  king  bit  his  lip,  and  then  burst  into  his  usual 
merry  laugh. 

"  Thou  art  in  the  right,  Master  Alwyn.  Finish  count- 
ing the  pieces,  and  then  go  and  consult  with  my  chamber- 
lain,—  he  must  off  with  the  cock-crow;  but,  since  ye 
seem  to  understand  each  other,  he  shall  make  thee  his 
lieutenant  of  search,  and  I  will  sign  any  order  he  pleases 
for  the  recovery  of  the  lost  wisdom  and  the  stolen  beauty. 
Go  and  calm  thyself,  Hastings. " 

"  I  will  attend  you  presently,  my  lord, "  said  Alwyn, 
aside,  "  in  your  own  apartment. " 

"Do  so,"  said  Hastings;  and,  grateful  for  the  king's 
consideration,  he  sought  his  rooms.  There,  indeed, 
Alwyn  soon  joined  him,  and  learned  from  the  noble- 
man what  filled  him  at  once  with  joy  and  terror. 
Knowing  that  Warner  and  Sibyll  had  left  the  Tower, 
he  had  surmised  that  the  girl's  virtue  had  at  last  suc- 
cumbed, and  it  delighted  him   to  hear  from  Lord  Has- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         311 

tings,  whose  word  to  men  was  never  questionable,  the 
solemn  assurance  of  her  unstained  chastity.  But  he 
trembled  at  this  mysterious  disappearance,  and  knew 
not  to  whom  to  impute  the  snare,  till  the  penetration 
of  Hastings  suddenly  alighted  near,  at  least,  to  the 
clew.  "  The  Duchess  of  Bedford, "  said  he,  "  ever  in- 
creasing in  superstition  as  danger  increases,  may  have 
desired  to  refind  so  great  a  scholar,  and  reputed  an 
astrologer  and  magician,  —  if  so,  all  is  safe.  On  the 
other  hand,  her  favorite,  the  friar,  ever  bore  a  jealous 
grudge  to  poor  Adam,  and  may  have  sought  to  abstract 
him  from  her  Grace's  search, —  here,  there  may  be  moles- 
tation to  Adam,  but  surely  no  danger  to  Sibyll.  Harkye, 
Alwyn :  thou  lovest  the  maid  more  worthily,  and  —  " 
Hastings  stopped  short,  —  for  such  is  infirm  human 
nature,  that,  though  he  had  mentally  resigned  Sibyll  for- 
ever, he  could  not  yet  calmly  face  the  thought  of  re- 
signing her  to  a  rival.  "  Thou  lovest  her,"  he  renewed, 
more  coldly,  "  and  to  thee ,  therefore,  I  may  safely  trust 
the  search,  which  time,  and  circumstance,  and  a  soldier's 
duty  forbid  to  me.  And  believe  —  oh,  believe,  that  I  say 
not  this  from  a  passion  which  may  move  thy  jealousy, 
but  rather  with  a  brother's  holy  love.  If  thou  canst  but 
see  her  safe,  and  lodged  where  nor  danger  nor  wrong 
can  find  her,  thou  hast  no  friend  in  the  wide  world 
whose  service  through  life  thou  mayest  command  like 
mine." 

"  My  lord, "  said  Alwyn,  dryly,  "  I  want  no  friends ! 
Young  as  I  am,  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  see  that 
friends  follow  fortune,  but  never  make  it !  I  will  find 
this  poor  maid  and  her  honored  father,  if  I  spend  my 
last  groat  on  the  search.  Get  me  but  such  an  order  from 
the  king  as  may  place  the  law  at  my  control,  and  awe 
even  her  Grace  of  Bedford,  —  and  I  promise  the  rest !  " 


312         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

Hastings,  much  relieved,  deigned  to  press  the  gold- 
smith's reluctant  hand;  and,  leaving  him  alone  for  a 
few  minutes,  returned  with  a  warrant  from  the  king, 
which  seemed  to  Alwyn  sufficiently  precise  and  author- 
itative. The  goldsmith  then  departed,  and  first  he 
sought  the  friar,  but  found  him  not  at  home.  Bungey 
had  taken  with  him,  as  was  his  wont,  the  keys  of  his 
mysterious  apartment.  Alwyn  then  hastened  elsewhere, 
to  secure  those  experienced  in  such  a  search,  and  to  head 
it  in  person.  At  the  Tower,  the  evening  was  passed 
in  bustle  and  excitement,  —  the  last  preparations  for 
departure.  The  queen,  who  was  then  far  advanced 
towards  her  confinement,  was,  as  we  before  said,  to 
remain  at  the  Tower,  which  was  now  strongly  manned. 
E-oused  from  her  wonted  apathy  by  the  imminent  dan- 
gers that  awaited  Edward,  the  night  was  passed  by  her 
in  tears  and  prayers,  —  by  him,  in  the  sound  sleep  of 
confident  valor.  The  next  morning  departed  for  the 
north  the  several  leaders,  —  Gloucester,  Rivers,  Has- 
tings and  the  king. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         313 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Landing  of  Lord  Warwick,  and  the  Events  that  ensue 

thereon. 

And  Charles  the  Bold,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  "  prepared 
such  a  greate  navie  as  lightly  hath  not  been  seene  before 
gathered  in  manner  of  all  nations,  which  armie  laie  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Seyne,  ready  to  fight  with  the  Earle  of 
Warwick,  when  he  should  set  out  of  his  harborowe."  * 

But  the  winds  fought  for  the  Avenger.  In  the  night 
came  "  a  terrible  tempest, "  which  scattered  the  duke's 
ships  "  one  from  another,  so  that  two  of  them  were 
not  in  compagnie  together  in  one  place ;  "  and  Avhen 
the  tempest  had  done  its  work,  it  passed  away,  and  the 
gales  were  fair,  and  the  heaven  was  clear.  When,  the 
next  day,  the  earl  "  halsed  up  the  sayles, "  and  came  in 
sight  of  Dartmouth. 

It  was  not  with  an  army  of  foreign  hirelings  that 
Lord  Warwick  set  forth  on  his  mighty  enterprise. 
Scanty,  indeed,  were  the  troops  he  brought  from  France, 
—  for  he  had  learned  from  England  that  "  men  so  much 
daily  and  hourely  desired  and  wished  so  sore  his  arrival 
and  return,  that  almost  all  men  were  in  harness,  looking 
for  his  landyng. "  '2     As  his  ships  neared  the  coast,  and 

1  Hall,  p.  282,  ed.  1809. 

2  The  popular  feeling  in  favor  of  the  earl  is  described  by  Hall 
with  somewhat  more  eloquence  and  vigor  than  are  common  with 
that  homely  chronicler :  "  The  absence  of  the  Earle  of  Warwick 
made  the  common  people  daily  more  and  more  to  long,  and  bee 
desirous  to  have  the  sight  of   him,  and   presently  to  behold   his 


314         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  banner  of  the  Bagged  Staff,  worked  in  gold,  shone 
in  the  sun,  the  shores  swarmed  with  armed  crowds,  not 
to  resist,  but  to  welcome.  From  cliff  to  cliff,  wide  and 
far,  blazed  rejoicing  bonfires;  and  from  cliif  to  cliff,  wide 
and  far,  burst  the  shout,  when,  first  of  all  his  men,  bare- 
headed, but,  save  the  burgonet,  in  complete  mail,  the 
popular  hero  leaped  to  shore. 

"  When  the  earle  had  taken  land,  he  made  a  proclama- 
tion, in  the  name  of  King  Henry  VI.,  upon  high  paynes, 
commanding  and  charging  all  men,  apt  or  able  to  bear 
armour,  to  prepare  themselves  to  fight  against  Edward 
Duke  of  York,  who  had  untruly  usurped  the  croune  and 
dignity  of  this  realm. "  1 

And  where  was  Edward  1  —  afar,  following  the  forces 
of  Fitzhugh  and  Robin  of  Redesdale,  who,  by  artful 
retreat,  drew  him  farther  and  farther  northward,  and 
left  all  the  other    quarters  of  the  kingdom  free  to  send 

personage.  For  they  judged  that  the  sunne  was  clerely  taken 
from  the  world  when  hee  was  ahsent.  In  such  high  estimation 
amongst  the  people  was  his  name,  that  neither  no  one  manne  they 
had  iu  so  much  honour,  neither  no  one  persone  they  so  much  praised, 
or,  to  the  clouds,  so  highly  extolled.  What  shall  I  say?  His 
only  name  sounded  in  every  song  in  the  mouth  of  the  common 
people,  and  his  persone  [effigies]  was  represented  with  great  reve- 
rence when  publique  plaies  or  open  triumphes  should  bee  shewed 
or  set  furthe  abrode  in  the  stretes,"  etc.  This  lively  passage,  if 
not  too  highly  colored,  serves  to  show  us  the  rude  saturnaliau 
kind  of  liberty  that  existed,  even  under  a  kiug  so  vindictive  as 
Edward  IV.  Though  an  individual  might  be  hauged  for  the  jest 
that  he  would  make  his  son  heir  to  the  crown  (namely,  the  grocer's 
shop,  which  bore  that  sign),  yet  no  tyranny  could  deal  with  the 
sentiment  of  the  masses.  In  our  own  day,  it  would  be  less  safe 
than  in  that,  to  make  public  exhibition,  "  in  plaies  and  triumphes," 
of  sympathy  with  a  man  attainted  as  a  traitor,  and  in  open  rebel- 
lion to  the  crown ! 
1  Hall,  p  82. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         315 

their  thousands  to  the  banners  of  Lancaster  and  War- 
wick. And  even  as  the  news  of  the  earl's  landing 
reached  the  king,  it  spread  also  through  all  the  towns 
of  the  north,  —  and  all  the  towns  in  the  north  were  in 
"  a  great  rore,  and  made  fires,  and  sang  songs,  crying, 
1  King  Henry,  King  Henry !  a  Warwicke,  a  Warwicke  !  '  " 
But  his  warlike  and  presumptuous  spirit  forsook  not  the 
chief  of  that  bloody  and  fatal  race  —  the  line  of  the 
English  Pelops  —  "  bespattered  with  kindred  gore. "  i 
A  messenger  from  Burgundy  was  in  his  tent  when  the 
news  reached  him.  "  Back  to  the  duke!  "  cried  Edward; 
"  tell  him  to  re-collect  his  navy,  guard  the  sea,  scour  the 
streams,  that  the  earl  shall  not  escape,  nor  return  to 
France, —  for  the  doings  in  England,  let  me  alone!  I 
have  ability  and  puissance  to  overcome  all  enemies  and 
rebels  in  mine  own  realm. "  2 

And  therewith  he  raised  his  camp,  abandoned  the  pur- 
suit of  Fitzhugh,  summoned  Montagu  to  join  him  (it 
being  now  safer  to  hold  the  marquis  near  him,  and  near 
the  axe,  if  his  loyalty  became  suspected),  and  marched 
on  to  meet  the  earl.  Nor  did  the  earl  tarry  from  the 
encounter.  His  army,  swelling  as  he  passed,  —  and  as 
men  read  his  proclamations  to  reform  all  grievances  and 
right  all  wrongs,  —  he  pressed  on  to  meet  the  king,  while 
fast  and  fast  upon  Edward's  rear  came  the  troops  of 
Fitzhugh  and  Hilyard;  no  longer  flying,  but  pursuing. 
The  king  was  the  more  anxious  to  come  up  to  Warwick, 
inasmuch  as  he  relied  greatly  upon  the  treachery  of 
Clarence,  either  secretly  to  betray  or  openly  to  desert 
the  earl.  And  he  knew  that  if  he  did  the  latter  on  the 
eve  of  a  battle,  it  could  not  fail  morally  to  weaken  War- 
wick, and  dishearten  his  army  by  fear  that  desertion 
should  prove,  as  it  ever  does,  the  most  contagious  dis' 
1  JEsch.  "  Agam."  2  Hall,  p.  283. 


o 


16  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 


ease  that  can  afflict  a  camp.  It  is  probable,  however, 
that  the  enthusiasm  which  had  surrounded  the  earl  with 
volunteers  so  numerous,  had  far  exceeded  the  anticipa- 
tions of  the  inexperienced  Clarence,  and  would  have 
forbid  him  that  opportunity  of  betraying  the  earl.  How- 
ever this  be,  the  rival  armies  drew  near  and  nearer. 
The  king  halted  in  his  rapid  march  at  a  small  village, 
and  took  up  his  quarters  in  a  fortified  house,  to  which 
there  was  no  access  but  by  a  single  bridge.1  Edward 
himself  retired  for  a  short  time  to  his  couch,  for  he  had 
need  of  all  his  strength  in  the  battle  he  foresaw.  But 
scarce  had  he  closed  his  eyes  when  Alexander  Carlile,2 
the  sergeant  of  the  royal  minstrels,  followed  by  Hast- 
ings and  Kivers  (their  jealousy  laid  at  rest  for  a  time  in 
the  sense  of  their  king's  danger),  rushed  into  his  room. 

"  Arm,  sire,  arm !  —  Lord  Montagu  has  thrown  off  the 
mask,  and  rides  through  thy  troops,  shouting  « Long  live 
King  Henry  ! '  " 

"Ah,  traitor!"  cried  the  king,  leaping  from  his  bed. 
"From  Warwick,  hate  was  my  due, —  but  not  from 
Montagu !  Kivers,  help  buckle  on  my  mail.  Hast- 
ings, post  my  body-guard  at  the  bridge.  We  will  sell 
our  lives  dear." 

Hastings  vanished.  Edward  had  scarcely  hurried  on 
his  helm,  cuirass,  and  greaves,  when  Gloucester  entered, 
calm  in  the  midst  of  peril. 

"  Your  enemies  are  marching  to  seize  you,  brother. 
Hark !  behind  you  rings  the  cry,  '  A  Fitzhugh,  a  Kobin, 
—  death  to  the  tyrant! '  Hark  !  in  front,  •  A  Montagu, 
a  Warwick.  —  Long  live  King  Henry  ! '  I  come  to 
redeem  my  word,  —  to  share  your  exile  or  your  death. 
Choose   either  while   there  is  yet  time.      Thy  choice  is 


mine!  " 


1  Sharon  Turner;  Comines.        2  Hearne's  "Fragment." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         317 

And  while  lie  spoke,  behind,  before,  came  the  various 
cries  near  and  nearer.  The  lion  of  March  was  in  the 
toils. 

"  Now,  my  two-handed  sword !  "  said  Edward.  "  Glou- 
cester, in  this  weapon  learn  my  choice!  " 

But  now  all  the  principal  barons  and  captains,  still 
true  to  the  king,  whose  crown  was  already  lost,  flocked 
in  a  body  to  the  chamber.  They  fell  on  their  knees, 
and  with  tears  implored  him  to  save  himself  for  a 
happier  day. 

"  There  is  yet  time  to  escape,"  said  d'Eyncourt, —  "  to 
pass  the  bridge,  to  gain  the  seaport !  Think  not  that 
a  soldier's  death  will  be  left  thee.  Numbers  Avill  suffice 
to  encumber  thine  arm,— to  seize  thy  person.  Live  not 
to  be  Warwick's  prisoner, —  shown  as  a  wild  beast  in 
its  cage  to  the  hooting  crowd!" 

"If  not  on  thyself,"  exclaimed  Rivers,  "have  pity 
on  these  loyal  gentlemen,  and  for  the  sake  of  their 
lives  preserve  thine  own.  What  is  flight?  Warwick 
fled  !  " 

"True, —  and  returned/"  added  Gloucester.  "You 
are  right,  my  lords.  Come,  sire,  we  must  fly.  Our 
rights  fly  not  with  us,  but  shall  fight  for  us  in 
absence !  " 

The  calm  will  of  this  strange  and  terrible  boy  had 
its  effect  upon  Edward.  He  suffered  his  brother  to 
lead  him  from  the  chamber,  grinding  his  teeth  in  impo- 
tent rage.  He  mounted  his  horse  while  Rivers  held 
the  stirrup,  and,  with  some  six  or  seven  knights  and 
earls,  rode  to  the  bridge,  already  occupied  by  Hastings 
and  a  small  but  determined  guard. 

"Come,  Hastings,"  said  the  king,  with  a  ghastly 
smile, —  "they  tell  us  we  must  fly!  " 

"  True,  sire,  haste,  —  haste !  I  stay  but  to  deceive  the 


318         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

enemy  by  feigning  to  defend  the  pass,  and  to  counsel, 
as  I  best  may,  the  faithful  soldiers  we  leave  behind. " 

"  Brave  Hastings !  "  said  Gloucester,  pressing  bis 
hand ;  "  you  do  well,  and  I  envy  you  the  glory  of  tins 
post.     Come,  sire." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  king,  with  a  sudden  and  fierce 
cry,  "  we  go,  —  but  at  least  slaughtering  as  we  go.  See  ! 
yon  rascal  troop !  —  ride  we  through  the  midst.  Havoc 
and  revenge  !  " 

He  set  spurs  to  his  steed,  galloped  over  the  bridge, 
and,  before  his  companions  could  join  him,  dashed  alone 
into  the  very  centre  of  the  advanced  guard  sent  to  invest 
the  fortress;  and  while  they  were  yet  shouting,  "Where 
is  the  tyrant,  —  where  is  Edward  1  " 

"  Here  !  "  answered  a  voice  of  thunder, —  "  here,  rebels 
and  faytors,  in  your  ranks  !  " 

This  sudden  and  appalling  reply,  even  more  than  the 
sweep  of  the  gigantic  sword,  before  which  were  riven 
sallet  and  mail,  as  the  woodman's  axe  rives  the  fagot, 
created  amongst  the  enemy  that  singular  panic,  which 
in  those  ages  often  scattered  numbers  before  the  arm 
and  the  name  of  one.  They  recoiled  in  confusion  and 
dismay.  Many  actually  threw  clown  their  arms  and 
fled.  Through  a  path  broad  and  clear,  amidst  the 
forest  of  pikes,  Gloucester  and  the  captains  followed 
the  flashing  track  of  the  king,  over  the  corpses,  head- 
less or  limbless,  that  he  felled  as  he  rode. 

Meanwhile,  with  a  truer  chivalry,  Hastings,  taking 
advantage  of  the  sortie  which  confused  and  delayed 
the  enemy,  summoned  such  of  the  loyal  as  were  left  in 
the  fortress,  advised  them,  as  the  only  chance  of  life, 
to  affect  submission  to  Warwick;  but  when  the  time 
came,  to  remember  their  old  allegiance,1  and  promising 
that  he  would  not  desert  them,  save  with  life,  till  their 
1  Sharon  Turner,  vol.  iii.  p.  289. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         319 

safety  was  pledged  by  the  foe,  reclosed  his  visor,  and 
rode  back  to  the  front  of  the  bridge. 

And  now  the  king  and  his  comrades  had  cut  their 
way  through  all  barrier,  but  the  enemy  still  wavered 
and  lagged,  till  suddenly  the  cry  of  "  Robin  of  Redes- 
dale  !  "  was  heard,  and,  sword  in  hand,  Hilyard,  followed 
by  a  troop  of  horse,  dashed  to  the  head  of  the  besiegers, 
and,  learning  the  king's  escape,  rode  off  in  pursuit. 
His  brief  presence  and  sharp  rebuke  reanimated  the 
falterers,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  gained  the  bridge. 

"  Halt,  sirs, "  cried  Hastings ;  "  I  would  offer  capitu- 
lation to  your  leader !     Who  is  he  ?  " 

A  knight  on  horseback  advanced  from  the  rest. 

Hastings  lowered  the  point  of  his  sword. 

"  Sir,  we  yield  this  fortress  to  your  hands  upon  one 
condition, —  our  men  yofider  are  willing  to  submit,  and 
shout  Avith  you  for  Henry  VI.  Pledge  me  your  word 
that  you  and  your  soldiers  spare  their  lives  and  do 
them  no  wrong,  and  we  depart." 

"  And  if  I  pledge  it  not  ?  "  said  the  knight. 

"  Then  for  every  warrior  who  guards  this  bridge  count 
ten  dead  men  amongst  your  ranks." 

"Do  your  worst, —  our  bloods  are  up!  We  want  life 
for  life!  —  revenge  for  the  subjects  butchered  by  your 
tyrant  chief  !  Charge !  to  the  attack,  —  charge  !  pike 
and  bill!  "  The  knight  spurred  on,  the  Lancastrians 
followed,  and  the  knight  reeled  from  his  horse  into 
the  moat  below,  felled  by  the  sword  of  Hastings. 

For  several  minutes  the  pass  was  so  gallantly  defended 
that  the  strife  seemed  uncertain,  though  fearfully  unequal, 
when  Lord  Montagu  himself,  hearing  what  had  befallen, 
galloped  to  the  spot,  threw  down  his  truncheon,  cried 
"Hold!  "  and  the  slaughter  ceased.  To  this  nobleman 
Hastings  repeated  the  terms  he  had  proposed. 


320  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

"  And, "  said  Montagu,  turning  with  anger  to  the 
Lancastrians,  who  formed  a  detachment  of  Fitzhugh's 
force, —  "can  Englishmen  insist  upon  butchering  Eng- 
lishmen 1  Rather  thank  we  Lord  Hastings  that  he 
would  spare  good  King  Henry  so  many  subjects'  lives ! 
The  terms  are  granted,  my  lord;  and  your  own  life 
also,  and  those  of  your  friends  around  you,  vainly 
brave  in  a  wrong  cause.     Depart!  " 

"  Ah,  Montagu, "  said  Hastings,  touched,  and  in  a 
whisper,  "  what  pity  that  so  gallant  a  gentleman  should 
leave  a  rebel's  blot  upon  his  scutcheon. " 

"  When  chiefs  and  suzerains  are  false  and  perjured, 
Lord  Hastings, "  answered  Montagu,  "  to  obey  them  is 
not  loyalty,  but  serfdom;  and  revolt  is  not  disloyalty, 
but  a  freeman's  duty.  One  day  thou  mayst  know  that 
truth,  but  too  late !  "  x 

Hastings  made  no  reply,  —  waved  his  hand  to  his 
fellow-defenders  of  the  bridge,  and,  followed  by  them, 
went  slowly  and  deliberately  on,  till  clear  of  the  mur- 
muring and  sullen  foe ;  then,  putting  spurs  to  their 
steeds,  these  faithful  warriors  rode  fast  to  rejoin  their 
king;  overtook  Hilyard  on  the  way,  and  after  a  fierce 
skirmish,  a  blow  from  Hastings  unhorsed  and  unhelmed 
the  stalwart  Robin,  and  left  him  so  stunned  as  to  check 
further  pursuit.  They  at  last  reached  the  king,  and 
gaining,  with  him  and  his  party,  the  town  of  Lynn, 
happily  found  one  English  and  two  Dutch  vessels  on 
the  point  of  sailing.  Without  other  raiment  than  the 
mail  they  wore, —  without  money, —  the  men,  a  few 
hours  before  hailed  as  sovereign  or  as  peers,  fled  from 
their  native  land  as  outcasts  and  paupers.  New  dangers 
beset  them  on  the  sea :  the  ships  of  the  Easterlings,  at 

1  It  was  in  the  midst  of  his  own  conspiracy  against  Richard  of 
Gloucester  that  the  head  of  Lord  Hastings  fell. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  321 

war  both  with  France  and  England,  bore  down  upon 
their  vessels.  At  the  risk  of  drowning,  they  ran  ashore 
near  Alcmaer.  The  large  ships  of  the  Easterlings  fol- 
lowed as  far  as  the  low  water  would  permit,  "  intendeing 
at  the  fludde  to  have  obtained  their  prey. "  x  In  this 
extremity,  the  lord  of  the  province  (Louis  of  Grauthuse) 
came  aboard  their  vessels,  protected  the  fugitives  from 
the  Easterlings,  conducted  them  to  the  Hague,  —  and 
apprised  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  how  his  brother-in-law 
had  lost  his  throne.  Then  were  verified  Lord  War- 
wick's predictions  of  the  faith  of  Burgundy  !  The  duke, 
for  whose  alliance  Edward  had  dishonored  the  man  to 
whom  he  owed  his  crown,  so  feared  the  victorious  earl, 
that  "  he  had  rather  have  heard  of  King  Edward's  death 
than  of  his  discomfiture. "  2  And  his  first  thought  was 
to  send  an  embassy  to  the  king-maker,  praying  the  amity 
and  alliance  of  the  restored  dynasty. 

1  Hall.  2  Hall,  p.  279. 

VOL.  II. — 21 


322         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

What  befell  Adam  "Warner  and  Sibyll,  when  made  subject  to  the 
great  Friar  Bungey. 

We  must  now  return  to  the  Tower  of  London,  —  not, 
indeed,  to  its  lordly  halls  and  gilded  chambers,  but  to 
the  room  of  Friar  Bungey.  We  must  go  back  some- 
what in  time;  and  on  the  day  following  the  departure 
of  the  king  and  his  lords,  conjure  up  in  that  strangely 
furnished  apartment  the  form  of  the  burly  friar  stand- 
ing before  the  disorganized  Eureka,  with  Adam  Warner 
by   his  side. 

Graul,  as  we  have  seen,  had  kept  her  word,  and 
Sibyll  and  her  father,  having  fallen  into  the  snare,  were 
suddenly  gagged,  bound,  led  through  bypaths  to  a 
solitary  hut,  where  a  covered  wagon  was  in  waiting, 
and  finally,  at  nightfall,  conducted  to  the  Tower.  The 
friar,  whom  his  own  repute,  jolly  affability,  and  favor 
with  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  made  a  considerable  per- 
son with  the  authorities  of  the  place,  had  already 
obtained  from  the  deputy-governor  an  order  to  lodge 
two  persons,  whom  his  zeal  for  the  king  sought  to  con- 
vict of  necromantic  practices  in  favor  of  the  rebellion, 
in  the  cells  set  apart  for  such  unhappy  captives.  Thither 
the  prisoners  were  conducted.  The  friar  did  not  object 
to  their  allocation  in  contiguous  cells;  and  the  jailer 
deemed  him  mighty  kind  and  charitable,  when  he 
ordered  that  they  might  be  well  served  and  fed  till 
their  examination. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         323 

He  did  not  venture,  however,  to  summon  his  cap- 
tives till  the  departure  of  the  king,  when  the  Tower 
was,  in  fact,  at  the  disposition  of  his  powerful  patroness, 
and  when  he  thought  he  might  stretch  his  authority 
as  far  as  he  pleased,  unquestioned  and  unchid. 

Now,  therefore,  on  the  day  succeeding  Edward's  de- 
parture, Adam  Warner  was  brought  from  his  cell,  and 
led  to  the  chamber  where  the  triumphant  friar  received 
him  in  majestic  state.  The  moment  Warner  entered, 
he  caught  sight  of  the  chaos  to  which  his  Eureka  was 
resolved,  and,  uttering  a  cry  of  mingled  grief  and  joy, 
sprang  forward  to  greet  his  profaned  treasure.  The 
friar  motioned  away  the  jailer  (whispering  him  to  wait 
without),  and  they  were  left  alone.  Bungey  listened 
with  curious  and  puzzled  attention  to  poor  Adam's 
broken  interjections  of  lamentation  and  anger,  and  at 
last,    clapping  him  roughly  on  the  back,  said, — 

"  Thou  knowest  the  secret  of  this  magical  and  ugly 
device;  but  in  thy  hands  it  leads  only  to  ruin  and 
perdition.  Tell  me  that  secret,  and  in  my  hands  it 
shall  turn  to  honor  and  profit.  Porkey  verbey  !  I  am 
a  man  of  few  words.  Do  this,  and  thou  shalt  go  free 
with  thy  daughter,  and  I  will  protect  thee,  and  give 
thee  moneys  and  my  fatherly  blessing ;  —  refuse  to  do 
it,  and  thou  shalt  go  from  thy  snug  cell  into  a  black 
dungeon  full  of  newts  and  rats,  where  thou  shalt  rot 
till  thy  nails  are  like  birds'  talons,  and  thy  skin  shriv- 
elled up  into  mummy,  and  covered  with  hair  like 
Nebuchadnezzar!  " 

"Miserable  varlet!  Give  thee  my  secret, —  give  thee 
my  fame,  my  life.  Never!  I  scorn  and  spit  at  thy 
malice !  " 

The  friar's  face  grew  convulsed  with  rage,  —  "  Wretch !  " 
he  roared  forth,  "  darest  thou  unslip  thy  hound-like  malig- 


o 


24  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 


nity  upon  great  Bungey  ?  —  Knowest  thou  not  that  he 
could  bid  the  walls  open  and  close  upon  thee,  —  that  he 
could  set  yon  serpents  to  coil  round  thy  limbs,  and  yon 
lizard  to  gnaw  out  thine  entrails  ?  Despise  not  my  mercy, 
and  descend  to  plain  sense.  What  good  didst  thou  ever 
reap  from  thy  engine  ?  —  why  shouldst  thou  lose  liberty 
—  nay,  life  —  if  I  will,  for  a  thing  that  has  cursed  thee 
with  man's  horror  and  hate  1  " 

"  Art  thou  Christian  and  friar  to  ask  me  why  ? 
Were  not  Christians  themselves  hunted  by  wild  beasts, 
and  burned  at  the  stake,  and  boiled  in  the  caldron  for 
their  belief?  Knave,  whatever  is  holiest,  men  ever  per- 
secute !     Read  thy  Bible  !  " 

"  Bead  the  Bible !  "  exclaimed  Bungey,  in  pious  hor- 
ror at  such  a  proposition, —  "ah!  blasphemer,  now  I 
have  thee  !  —  Thou  art  a  heretic  and  Lollard.  Hollo, 
there !  " 

The  friar  stamped  his  foot, —  the  door  opened,  but  to 
his  astonishment  and  dismay  appeared  not  the  grim  jailer, 
but  the  Duchess  of  Bedford  herself,  preceded  by  Nicholas 
Alwyn. 

"  I  told  your  Grace  truly,  —  see  lady !  "  cried  the  gold- 
smith,—  "Vile  impostor,  where  hast  thou  hidden  this 
wise  man's  daughter?  " 

The  friar  turned  his  dull,  bead-like  eyes,  in  vacant 
consternation,  from  Nicholas  to  Adam,  from  Adam  to 
the  duchess. 

"  Sir  Briar, "  said  Jacquetta,  mildly,  for  she  wished 
to  conciliate  the  rival  seers,  —  "  what  means  this  over- 
zealous  violation  of  law?  Is  it  true,  as  Master  Alwyn 
affirms,  that  thou  hast  stolen  away  and  seducted  this 
venerable  sage  and  his  daughter,  a  maid  I  deemed 
worthy  of  a  post  in  my  own  household  ?  " 

"  Daughter  and  lady, "  said  the  friar,  sullenly,  "  this 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         325 

ill  faytor,  I  have  reason  to  know,  has  been  practising 
spells  for  Lord  Warwick  and  the  enemy.  I  did  but 
summon  him  hither  that  my  art  might  undo  his  charms; 
and  as  for  his  daughter,  it  seemed  more  merciful  to  let 
her  attend  him,  than  to  leave  her  alone  and  unfriended ; 
specially, "  added  the  friar,  with  a  grin,  "  since  the  poor 
lord  she  hath  witched  is  gone  to  the  wars." 

"  Is  it  true  then,  wretch,  that  thou  or  thy  caitiffs  have 
dared  to  lay  hands  on  a  maiden  of  birth  and  blood!  " 
exclaimed  Alwyn.  "  Tremble !  —  see  here,  the  warrant 
signed  by  the  king,  offering  a  reward  for  thy  detection, 
empowering  me  to  give  thee  up  to  the  laws.  By  St. 
Dunstan!  but  for  thy  friar's  frock,  thou  shouldst 
hang. " 

"  Tut,  tut,  Master  Goldsmith !  "  said  the  duchess, 
haughtily,  —  "lower  thy  tone.  This  holy  man  is  under 
my  protection,  and  his  fault  was  but  over-zeal.  What 
were  this  sage's  devices  and  spells?" 

"  Marry  !  "  said  the  friar,  gruffly, —  "  that  is  what  your 
Grace  just  hindereth  my  knowing.  But  he  cannot  deny 
that  he  is  a  pestilent  astrologer,  and  sends  word  to  the 
rebels  what  hours  are  lucky  or  fatal  for  battle  and 
assault. " 

"Ha!"  said  the  duchess,  "he  is  an  astrologer!  true, 
and  came  nearer  to  the  alchemist's  truth  than  any  multi- 
plier that  ever  served  me!  My  own  astrologer  is  just 
dead,  —  why  died  he  at  such  a  time  1  Peace,  peace !  be 
there  peace  between  two  so  learned  men!  Forgive  thy 
brother,  Master  Warner  !  " 

Adam  had  hitherto  disdained  all  participation  in  this 
dialogue.  In  fact,  he  had  returned  to  the  Eureka,  and 
was  silently  examining  if  any  loss  of  the  vital  parts  had 
occurred  in  its  melancholy  dismemberment.  But  now 
he    turned  round,    and    said,   "  Lady,    leave   the  lore   of 


326         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  stars  to  their  great  Maker.  I  forgive  this  man,  and 
thank  your  Grace  for  your  justice.  I  claim  these  poor 
fragments,  and  crave  your  leave  to  suffer  me  to  depart 
with  my  device  and  my  child." 

" No,  no!  "  said  the  duchess,  seizing  his  hand.  "  Hist! 
whatever  Lord  Warwick  paid  thee,  I  will  double.  No 
time  now  for  alchemy ;  hut  for  the  horoscope  it  is  the 
veriest  season.     I  name  thee  my  special  astrologer!" 

"  Accept,  accept !  "  whispered  Alwyn :  "  for  your 
daughter's  sake,  for  your  own, —  nay  for  the  Eureka's!  " 

Adam  bowed  his  head,  and  groaned  forth,  "  But  I  go 
not  hence  —  no,  not  a  foot — unless  this  goes  with  me. 
Cruel  wretch,  how  he  hath  deformed  it !  " 

"  And  now, "  cried  Alwyn,  eagerly,  "  this  wronged  and 
unhappy  maiden  %  " 

"  Go  !  be  it  thine  to  release  and  bring  her  to  our  pres- 
ence, good  Alwyn, "  said  the  duchess;  "she  shall  lodge 
with  her  father,  and  receive  all  honor.  Follow  me, 
Master  Warner  !  " 

No  sooner,  however,  did  the  friar  perceive  that  Alwyn 
had  gone  in  search  of  the  jailer,  than  he  arrested  the 
steps  of  the  duchess,  and  said,  with  the  air  of  a  much- 
injured  man, — 

"  May  it  please  your  Grace  to  remember,  that  unless 
the  greater  magician  have  all  power,  and  aid  in  thwart- 
ing the  lesser,  the  lesser  can  prevail;  and  therefore,  if 
your  Grace  finds,  when  too  late,  that  Lord  Warwick's 
or  Lord  Fitzhugh's  arms  prosper, — that  woe  and  dis- 
aster befall  the  king,  —  say  not  it  was  the  fault  of  Friar 
Bungey  !  —  such  things  may  be  !  Nathless  I  shall  still 
sweat,  and  watch,  and  toil;  and  if,  despite  your  un- 
happy favor  and  encouragement  to  this  hostile  sorcerer, 
the  king  should  beat  his  enemies,  why  then,  Friar  Bun- 
gey is  not  so  powerless  as  your  Grace  holds  him.     I  have 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         327 

said  —  Porkey  verbey  !  —  Vigilabo  et  conabo  —  et  per- 
spirabo  —  et  hungerabo — pro  vos  et  vestros,  Amen  !  ' 

The  duchess  was  struck  by  this  eloquent  appeal ;  hut 
more  and  more  convinced  of  the  dread  science  of  Adam 
by  the  evident  apprehensions  of  the  redoubted  Bungey, 
and  firmly  persuaded  that  she  could  bribe  or  induce  the 
former  to  turn  a  science  that  would  otherwise  be  hostile 
into  salutary  account,  she  contented  herself  with  a  few 
words  of  conciliation  and  compliment,  and,  summoning 
the  attendants  who  had  followed  her,  bade  them  take  up 
the  various  members  of  the  Eureka  (for  Adam  clearly 
demonstrated  that  he  would  not  depart  without  them), 
and  conducted  the  philosopher  to  a  lofty  chamber,  fitted 
up  for  the  defunct  astrologer. 

Hither,  in  a  short  time,  Alwyn  had  the  happiness  of 
leading  Sibyll,  and  witnessing  the  delighted  reunion  of 
the  child  and  father.  And  then,  after  he  had  learned 
the  brief  details  of  their  abduction,  he  related  how, 
baffled  in  all  attempt  to  trace  their  clew,  he  had  con- 
vinced himself  that  either  the  duchess  or  Bungey  was 
the  author  of  the  snare,  returned  to  the  Tower,  shown 
the  king's  warrant,  learned  that  an  old  man  and  a  young 
female  had  indeed  been  admitted  into  the  fortress,  and 
hurried  at  once  to  the  duchess,  who,  surprised  at  his 
narration  and  complaint,  and  anxious  to  regain  the  ser- 
vices of  Warner,  had  accompanied  him  at  once  to  the 
friar. 

"And  though,"  added  the  goldsmith,  "  I  could  indeed 
procure  you  lodgings  more  welcome  to  ye  elsewhere,  yet  it 
is  well  to  win  the  friendship  of  the  duchess,  and  royalty 
is  ever  an  ill  foe.     How  came  ye  to  quit  the  palace  1  " 

Sibyll  changed  countenance,  and  her  father  answered 
gravely,  "  We  incurred  the  king's  displeasure,  and  the 
excuse  was  the  popular  hatred  of  me  and  the  Eureka." 


328         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAEONS. 

"  Heaven  made  the  people,  and  the  devil  makes  three- 
fourths  of  what  is  popular!  "  bluntly  said  the  Man  of 
the  Middle  Class,  ever  against  both  extremes. 

"And  how?"  asked  Sibyll, —  "how,  honored  and 
true  friend,  didst  thou  obtain  the  king's  warrant,  and 
learn  the  snare  into  which  we  had  fallen  1  " 

This  time  it  was  Alwyn  who  changed  countenance. 
He  mused  a  moment,  and  then,  frankly  answering, 
"Thou  must  thank  Lord  Hastings,"  gave  the  explana- 
tion already  known  to  the  reader. 

But  the  grateful  tears  this  relation  called  forth  from 
Sibyll,  her  clasped  hands,  her  evident  emotion  of  delight 
and  love,  so  pained  poor  Alwyn  that  he  rose  abruptly 
and  took  his  leave. 

And  now,  the  Eureka  was  a  luxury  as  peremptorily 
forbid  to  the  astrologer,  as  it  had  been  to  the  alchemist! 
Again  the  true  science  was  despised,  and  the  false  culti- 
vated and  honored.  Condemned  to  calculations,  which 
no  man  (however  wise),  in  that  age,  held  altogether 
delusive,  and  which  yet  Adam  Warner  studied  with  very 
qualified  belief,  it  happened  by  some  of  those  coinci- 
dences, which  have  from  time  to  time  appeared  to  con- 
firm the  credulous  in  judicial  astrology,  that  Adam's 
predictions  became  fulfilled.  The  duchess  was  prepared 
for  the  first  tidings,  that  Edward's  foes  fled  before  him. 
She  was  next  prepared  for  the  very  day  in  which  War- 
wick landed,  and  then  her  respect  for  the  astrologer 
became  strangely  mingled  with  suspicion  and  terror 
when  she  found  that  he  proceeded  to  foretell  but  omi- 
nous and  evil  events ;  and  when,  at  last,  still  in  corrobo- 
ration of  the  unhappily  too  faithful  horoscope,  came  the 
news  of  the  king's  flight,  and  the  earl's  march  upon 
London,  she  fled  to  Eriar  Bungey  in  dismay,  and  Friar 
Bungey  said, — 


THE   LAST   OF  THE  BARONS.  329 

"Did  I  not  warn  you,  daughter?  Had  you  suffered 
me  to  —  " 

"True,  true!  "  interrupted  the  duchess.  "Now  take, 
hang,  rack,  drown,  or  burn  your  horrible  rival,  if  you 
will,  but  undo  the  charm,  and  save  us  from  the  earl  1  " 

The  friar's  eyes  twinkled,  but  to  the  first  thought  of 
spite  and  vengeance  succeeded  another:  if  he  who  had 
made  the  famous  waxen  effigies  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick, 
were  now  to  be  found  guilty  of  some  atrocious  and  posi- 
tive violence  upon  Master  Adam  Warner,  might  not 
the  earl  be  glad  of  so  good  an  excuse  to  put  an  end  to 
himself  1 

"  Daughter, "  said  the  friar  at  that  reflection,  and 
shaking  his  head  mysteriously  and  sadly, —  "daughter, 
it  is  too  late." 

The  duchess,  in  great  despair,  flew  to  the  queen. 
Hitherto  she  had  concealed  from  her  royal  daughter 
the  employment  she  had  given  to  Adam ;  for  Elizabeth, 
who  had  herself  suffered  from  the  popular  belief  in 
Jacquetta's  sorceries,  had  of  late  earnestly  besought 
her  to  lay  aside  all  practices  that  could  be  called  into 
question.  Now,  however,  when  she  confessed  to  the 
agitated  and  distracted  queen  the  retaining  of  Adam 
Warner,  and  his  fatal  predictions,  Elizabeth,  who,  from 
discretion  and  pride,  had  carefully  hidden  from  her 
mother  (too  vehement  to  keep  a  secret)  that  offence  in 
the  king,  the  memory  of  which  had  made  Warner 
peculiarly  obnoxious  to  him,  exclaimed,  "  Unhappy 
mother,  thou  hast  employed  the  very  man  my  fated 
husband  would  the  most  carefully  have  banished  from 
the  palace, —  the  very  man  who  could  blast  his  name." 

The  duchess  was  aghast  and  thunderstricken. 

"  If   ever  I  forsake  Friar  Bungey   again  !  "  she    mut- 
tered; "oh,  the  great  man!" 


330         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

But  events  which  demand  a  detailed  recital  now 
rapidly  pressing  on,  gave  the  duchess  not  even  the  time 
to  seek  further  explanation  of  Elizabeth's  words,  much 
less  to  determine  the  doubt  that  rose  in  her  enlightened 
mind  whether  Adam's  spells  might  not  be  yet  unravelled 
by  the  timely  execution  of  the  sorcerer! 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  B AEONS.         331 


CHAPTER   IX. 

The  Deliberations  of   Mayor  and  Council,  while  Lord  Warwick 
marches  upon  London. 

It  was  a  clear  and  bright  day  in  the  first  week  of  Octo- 
ber 1470,  when  the  various  scouts  employed  by  the 
mayor  and  council  of  London  came  back  to  the  Guild, 
at  which  that  worshipful  corporation  were  assembled  — ■ 
their  steeds  blown  and  jaded,  themselves  panting  and 
breathless  —  to  announce  the  rapid  march  of  the  Earl  of 
Warwick.  The  lord  mayor  of  that  year,  Richard  Lee, 
grocer  and  citizen,  sat  in  the  venerable  hall  in  a  huge 
leather  chair,  over  which  a  pall  of  velvet  had  been 
thrown  in  haste,  clad  in  his  robes  of  state,  and  sur- 
rounded by  his  aldermen  and  the  magnates  of  the  city. 
To  the  personal  love  which  the  greater  part  of  the  body 
bore  to  the  young  and  courteous  king,  was  added  the 
terror  which  the  corporation  justly  entertained  of  the 
Lancastrian  faction.  They  remembered  the  dreadful 
excesses  which  Margaret  had  permitted  to  her  army  in 
the  year  1461,  —  what  time,  to  use  the  expression  of 
the  old  historian,  "  the  wealth  of  London  looked  pale ;  " 
and  how  grudgingly  she  had  been  restrained  from  con- 
demning her  revolted  metropolis  to  the  horrors  of  sack 
and  pillage.  And  the  bearing  of  this  august  repre- 
sentation of  the  trade  and  power  of  London  was  not,  at 
the  first,  unworthy  of  the  high  influence  it  had  obtained. 
The  agitation  and  disorder  of  the  hour  had  introduced 
into  the  assembly  several  of  the  more  active  and  accred- 
ited   citizens,    not    of    right    belonging    to    it;    but   they 


o 


32  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 


sat,  in  silent  discipline  and  order,  on  long  benches 
beyond  the  table  crowded  by  the  corporate  officers. 
Foremost  among  these,  and  remarkable  by  the  firmness 
and  intelligence  of  his  countenance,  and  the  earnest 
self-possession  with  which  he  listened  to  his  seniors, 
was  Nicholas  Alwyn,  summoned  to  the  council  from 
his  great  influence  with  the  apprentices  and  younger 
freemen  of  the  city. 

As  the  last  scout  announced  his  news,  and  was 
gravely  dismissed,  the  lord  mayor  rose;  and  being, 
perhaps,  a  better  educated  man  than  many  of  the 
haughtiest  barons,  and  having  more  at  stake  than  most 
of  them,  his  manner  and  language  had  a  dignity  and 
earnestness  which  might  have  reflected  honor  on  the 
higher  court  of  Parliament. 

"  Brethren  and  citizens, "  he  said,  with  the  decided 
brevity  of  one  who  felt  it  no  time  for  many  words,  "  in 
two  hours  we  shall  hear  the  clarions  of  Lord  Warwick 
at  our  gates;  in  two  hours  we  shall  be  summoned  to 
give  entrance  to  an  army  assembled  in  the  name  of 
King  Henry.  I  have  done  my  duty:  I  have  manned 
the  walls, —  I  have  marshalled  what  soldiers  we  can 
command.  I  have  sent  to  the  deputy-governor  of  the 
Tower  —  " 

"And  what  answer  gives  he,  my  lord  mayor1?" 
interrupted    Humfrey  Heyford. 

"  None  to  depend  upon.  He  answers  that  Edward  IV-, 
in  abdicating  the  kingdom,  has  left  him  no  power  to 
resist ;  and  that  between  force  and  force,  king  and  king, 
might  makes  right." 

A  deep  breath,  like  a  groan,  went  through  the 
assembly. 

Up  rose  Master  John  Stokton,  the  mercer.  He 
rose,  trembling  from  limb  to  limb. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.  333 

"Worshipful,  my  lord  mayor,"  said  he,  "it  seems  to 
me  that  our  first  duty  is  to  look  to  our  own  selves  !  " 

Despite  the  gravity  of  the  emergence,  a  laugh  hurst 
forth,  and  was  at  once  silenced,  at  this  frank  avowal. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  mercer,  turning  round,  and 
striking  the  table  with  his  fist,  in  the  action  of  a 
nervous  man, —  "yes;  for  King  Edward  has  set  us  the 
example.  A  stout  and  a  dauntless  champion,  whose 
whole  youth  has  been  war,  King  Edward  has  fled  from 
the  kingdom,  —  King  Edward  takes  care  of  himself:  it 
is  our  duty  to  do  the  same!  " 

Strange  though  it  may  seem,  this  homely  selfishness 
went  at  once  through  the  assembly  like  a  flash  of  con- 
viction. There  was  a  burst  of  applause,  and,  as  it 
ceased,  the  sullen  explosion  of  a  bombard  (or  cannon) 
from  the  city  wall  announced  that  the  warder  had 
caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the  approaching  army. 

Master  Stokton  started  as  if  the  shot  had  gone  near 
to  himself,  and  dropped  at  once  into  his  seat,  ejaculating 
"  The  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us !  "  There  was  a  pause 
of  a  moment,  and  then  several  of  the  corporation  rose 
simultaneously.  The  mayor,  preserving  his  dignity, 
fixed   on  the   sheriff. 

"  Few  words,  my  lord,  and  I  have  done, "  said  Richard 
Gardyner, —  "there  is  no  fighting  without  men.  The 
troops  at  the  Tower  are  not  to  be  counted  on.  The 
populace  are  all  with  Lord  Warwick,  even  though  he 
brought  the  devil  at  his  back.  If  you  hold  out,  look 
to  rape  and  plunder  before  sunset  to-morrow.  If  ye 
yield,  go  forth  in  a  body,  and  the  earl  is  not  the  man 
to  suffer  one  Englishman  to  be  injured  in  life  or  health 
who  once  trusts  to  his  good  faith.      My  say  is  said." 

"  Worshipful,  my  lord, "  said  a  thin,  cadaverous 
alderman,  who  rose  next,  —  "this  is  a  judgment  of  the 


334         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

Lord  and  His  saints.  The  Lollards  and  heretics  have 
been  too  much  suffered  to  run  at  large,  and  the  wrath 
of  Heaven  is  upon  us." 

An  impatient  murmuring  attested  the  unwillingness 
of  the  larger  part  of  the  audience  to  listen  further;  but 
an  approving  buzz  from  the  elder  citizens  announced 
that  the  fanaticism  was  not  without  its  favorers.  Thus 
stimulated  and  encouraged,  the  orator  continued;  and 
concluded  an  harangue,  interrupted  more  stormily  than 
all  that  had  preceded,  by  an  exhortation  to  leave  the 
city  to  its  fate,  and  to  march  in  a  body  to  the  New 
Prison,  draw  forth  five  suspected  Lollards,  and  burn 
them  at  Smithfield,  in  order  to  appease  the  Almighty 
and  divert  the  tempest ! 

This  subject  of  controversy,  once  started,  might  have 
delayed  the  audience  till  the  lagged  staves  of  the  War- 
wickers  drove  them  forth  from  their  hall,  but  for  the 
sagacity  and  promptitude  of  the  mayor. 

"  Brethren,"  he  said,  "it  matters  not  to  me  whether 
the  counsel  suggested  be  good  or  bad,  on  the  main;  but 
this  have  I  heard,  —  there  is  small  safety  in  deathbed 
repentance.  It  is  too  late  now  to  do,  through  fear  of 
the  devil,  what  we  omitted  to  do  through  zeal  for  the 
church.  The  sole  question  is,  '  Fight  or  make  terms.' 
Ye  say  we  lack  men,  — verily,  yes,  while  no  leaders  are 
found!  Walworth,  my  predecessor,  saved  London  from 
Wat  Tyler.  Men  were  wanting  then  till  the  mayor  and 
his  fellow-citizens  marched  forth  to  Mile  End.  It  may 
be  the  same  now.  Agree  to  fight,  and  we  '11  try  it,  — 
what  say  you,  Nicholas  Alwyn  1  —  you  know  the  temper 
of  our  young  men  " 

Thus  called  upon,  Alwyn  rose,  and  such  was  the  good 
name  he  had  already  acquired  that  every  murmur  hushed 
into  eager  silence. 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  335 

"  My  lord  mayor,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  proverb  in  my 
country  which  says,  '  Fish  swim  best  that 's  bred  in  the 
sea;'  which  means,  I  take  it,  that  men  do  best  what 
they  are  trained  for !  Lord  Warwick  and  his  men  are 
trained  for  fighting.  Few  of  the  fish  about  London 
Bridge  are  bred  in  that  sea.  Cry,  '  London  to  the 
rescue!  '  — put  on  hauberk  and  helm,  and  you  will  have 
crowns  enough  to  crack  around  you.  What  follows  1  — 
Master  Stokton  hath  said  it:  pillage  and  rape  for  the 
city,  —  gibbet  and  cord  for  mayor  and  aldermen.  Do  I 
say  this,  loving  the  house  of  Lancaster  1  ~No  ;  as  Heaven 
shall  judge  me,  I  think  that  the  policy  King  Edward 
hath  chosen,  and  which  costs  him  his  crown  to-day, 
ought  to  make  the  house  of  York  dear  to  burgess  and 
trader.  He  hath  sought  to  break  up  the  iron  rule  of 
the  great  barons,  — and  never  peace  to  England  till  that 
be  done.  He  has  failed;  but  for  a  day.  He  has  yielded 
for  the  time;  so  must  we.  '  There  's  a  time  to  squint, 
and  a  time  to  look  even.'  I  advise  that  we  march  out 
to  the  earl;  that  we  make  honorable  terms  for  the  city; 
that  we  take  advantage  of  one  faction  to  gain  what  we 
have  not  gained  with  the  other;  that  we  fight  for  our 
profit,  not  with  swords  where  we  shall  be  worsted,  but 
in  council  and  Parliament,  by  speech  and  petition. 
New  power  is  ever  gentle  and  douce.  What  matters 
to  us ,  York  or  Lancaster  1  —  all  we  want  is  good  laws 
Get  the  best  we  can  from  Lancaster,  —  and  when  King 
Edward  returns,  as  return  he  will,  let  him  bid  higher 
than  Henry  for  our  love.  Worshipful  my  lords  and 
brethren,  while  barons  and  knaves  go  to  loggerheads, 
honest  men  get  their  own.  Time  grows  under  us  like 
grass.  York  and  Lancaster  may  pull  down  each  other, 
—  and  what  is  left?  Why,  three  things  that  thrive  in 
all  weather,  —  London,  Industry,  and  the  People!     We 


336  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

have  fallen  on  a  rough  time.  Well,  what  says  the 
proverb?  '  Boil  stones  in  butter,  and  you  may  sup  the 
broth.'     I  have  done." 

This  characteristic  harangue,  which  was  fortunate 
enough  to  accord  with  the  selfishness  of  each  one,  and 
yet  give  the  manly  excuse  of  sound  sense  and  wise 
policy  to  all,  was  the  more  decisive  in  its  effect,  inas- 
much as  the  young  Alwyn,  from  his  own  determined 
courage,  and  his  avowed  distaste  to  the  Lancaster  fac- 
tion, had  been  expected  to  favor  warlike  counsels. 
The  mayor  himself,  who  was  faithfully  and  personally 
attached  to  Edward,  with  a  deep  sigh,  gave  way  to  the 
feeling  of  the  assembly.  And  the  resolution  being 
once  come  to,  Henry  Lee  was  the  first  to  give  it  what- 
ever advantage  could  be  derived  from  prompt  and  speedy 
action. 

"Go  we  forth  at  once,"  said  he,  —  "go,  as  becomes 
us,  in  our  robes  of  state,  and  with  the  insignia  of  the 
city.  Never  be  it  said  that  the  guardians  of  the  city  of 
London  could  neither  defend  with  spirit,  nor  make 
terms  with  honor.  We  give  entrance  to  Lord  War- 
wick. Well,  then,  it  must  be  our  own  free  act.  Come! 
Officers  of  our  court,  advance." 

"  Stay  a  bit,  — stay  a  bit,"  whispered  Stokton,  digging 
sharp  claws  into  Alwyn's  arm;  "  let  them  go  first,  — a 
word  with  you,  cunning  Nick,  a  word." 

Master  Stokton,  despite  the  tremor  of  his  nerves, 
was  a  man  of  such  wealth  and  substance  that  Alwyn 
might  well  take  the  request,  thus  familiarly  made,  as 
a  compliment  not  to  be  received  discourteously;  more- 
over, he  had  his  own  reasons  for  hanging  back  from  a 
procession  which  his  rank  in  a  city  did  not  require  him 
to  join. 

While,  therefore,  the  mayor  and  the  other  dignitaries 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAkONS.         337 

left  the  hall,  with  as  much  state  and  order  as  if  not 
going  to  meet  an  invading  army,  but  to  join  a  holiday 
festival,  Nicholas  and  Stokton  lingered  behind. 

"  Master  Alwyn,"  said  Stokton,  then,  with  a  sly  wink 
of  his  eye,  "  you  have  this  day  done  yourself  great 
credit;  you  will  rise,  —  I  have  my  eye  on  you!  I  have 
a  daughter,  — I  have  a  daughter!  Aha!  a  lad  like  you 
may  come  to  great  things!  " 

"I  am  much  bounden  to  you,  Master  Stokton,"  re- 
turned Alwyn,  somewhat  abstractedly, — "but  what's 
your  will  1  " 

"My  will! — hum,  I  say,  Nicholas,  what's  your 
advice  1  Quite  right  not  to  go  to  blows.  Odds  cos- 
tards! that  mayor  is  a  very  tiger!  But  don't  you 
think  it  would  be  wiser  not  to  join  this  procession? 
Edward  IV. ,  an  he  ever  come  back,  has  a  long  memory. 
He  deals  at  my  ware,  too,  —  a  good  customer  at  a  mer- 
cer's; and,  Lord!  how  much  money  he  owes  the  city! 

—  hum,  I  would  not  seem  ungrateful." 

"  But  if  you  go  not  out  with  the  rest,  there  be  other 
mercers  who  will  have  King  Henry's  countenance  and 
favor ;  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  a  new  court  will  make 
vast  consumption  in  mercery." 

Master  Stokton  looked  puzzled. 

"That  were  a  hugeous  pity,  good  Nicholas;  and, 
certes,  there  is  Wat  Smith,  in  Eastgate,  who  would 
cheat  that  good  King  Henry,  poor  man!  which  were  a 
shame  to  the  city;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Yorkists 
mostly  pay  on  the  nail  (except  King  Edward,  God  save 
him!),  and  the  Lancastrians  are  as  poor  as  mice.  More- 
over, King  Henry  is  a  meek  man,  and  does  not  avenge, 

—  King  Edward,  a  hot  and  a  stern  man,  and  may  call 
it  treason  to  go  with  the  Red  Rose  !  I  wish  I  knew 
how  to  decide  !     I  have  a  daughter,  an  only  daughter, 

vol.  II.  —  22 


338  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

—  a  buxom  lass,  and  well  dowered.  I  would  I  had  a 
sharp  son-in-law  to  advise  me  !  " 

"Master  Stokton,  in  one  word,  then,  he  never  goes 
far  wrong  who  can  run  with  the  hare  and  hunt  with  the 
hounds.     Good-day  to  you;  I  have  business  elsewhere." 

So  saying,  Nicholas,  rather  hastily,  shook  off  the 
mercer's  quivering  fingers,  and  hastened  out  of  the 
hall. 

"Verily,"  murmured  the  disconsolate  Stokton,  "run 
with  the  hare,  quotha  !  —  that  is,  go  with  King  Edward; 
but  hunt  with  the  hounds,  —  that  is,  go  with  King 
Henry.  Odds  costards;  it's  not  so  easily  done  by  a 
plain  man,  not  bred  in  the  north.  I  'd  best  go  —  home, 
and  do  nothing  !  " 

With  that,  musing  and  bewildered,  the  poor  man 
sneaked  out,  and  was  soon  lost  amidst  the  murmuring, 
gathering,  and  swaying  crowds,  many  amongst  which 
were  as  much  perplexed  as  himself. 

In  the  meanwhile,  with  his  cloak  muffled  carefully 
round  his  face,  and  with  a  long,  stealthy,  gliding  stride, 
Alwyn  made  his  way  through  the  streets,  gained  the 
river,  entered  a  boat  in  waiting  for  him,  and  arrived  at 
last  at  the  palace  of  the  Tower. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         339 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Triumphal  Entry  of  the  Earl — The  Royal  Captive  in  the 
Tower  —  The  Meeting  between  King-maker  and  King. 

All  in  the  chambers  of  the  metropolitan  fortress 
exhibited  the  greatest  confusion  and  dismay.  The 
sentinels,  it  is  true,  were  still  at  their  posts,  men-at- 
arms  at  the  outworks,  the  bombards  were  loaded,  the 
flag  of  Edward  IV.  still  waved  aloft  from  the  battle- 
ments; but  the  officers  of  the  fortress  and  the  captains 
of  its  soldiery  were,  some  assembled  in  the  old  hall, 
pale  with  fear,  and  wrangling  with  each  other;  some 
had  fled,  none  knew  whither;  some  had  gone  avowedly 
and  openly  to  join  the  invading  army. 

Through  this  tumultuous  and  feeble  force  Nicholas 
Alwyn  was  conducted  by  a  single  faithful  servitor  of 
the  queen's  (by  whom  he  was  expected);  and  one  glance 
of  his  quick  eye,  as  he  passed  along,  convinced  him  of 
the  justice  of  his  counsels.  He  arrived  at  last,  by  a 
long  and  winding  stair,  at  one  of  the  loftiest  chambers, 
in  one  of  the  loftiest  towers,  usually  appropriated  to  the 
subordinate  officers  of  the  household. 

And  there,  standing  by  the  open  casement,  command- 
ing some  extended  view  of  the  noisy  and  crowded  scene 
beyond,  both  on  stream  and  land,  he  saw  the  queen  of 
the  fugitive  monarch.  By  her  side  was  the  Lady 
Scrope,  her  most  familiar  friend  and  confidant,  —  her 
three  infant  children,  Elizabeth,  Mary,  and  Cicely, 
grouped  round  her  knees,  playing  with  each  other,  and 
unconscious  of  the  terrors  of  the  times;  and  apart  from 


340         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  rest  stood  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  conferring  eagerly 
with  Friar  Bungey,  whom  she  had  summoned  in  haste, 
to  know  if  his  art  could  not  yet  prevail  over  enemies 
merely  mortal. 

The  servitor  announced  Alwyn,  and  retired:  the 
queen  turned,  —  "  What  news,  Master  Alwyn?  Quick! 
What  tidings  from  the  Lord  Mayor  1  " 

"  Gracious,  my  queen  and  lady,"  said  Alwyn,  falling 
on  his  knees,  —  "  you  have  but  one  course  to  pursue. 
Below  yon  casement  lies  your  barge,  —  to  the  right,  see 
the  round,  gray  tower  of  Westminster  Sanctuary;  you 
have  time  yet,  and  but  time !  " 

The  old  Duchess  of  Bedford  turned  her  sharp,  bright, 
gray  eyes  from  the  pale  and  trembling  friar  to  the  gold- 
smith, but  was  silent.  The  queen  stood  aghast!  — 
"Mean  you,"  she  faltered  at  last,  "that  the  city  of 
London  forsakes  the  king?     Shame  on  the  cravens!" 

"Not  cravens,  my  lady  and  queen,"  said  Alwyn, 
rising.  "  He  must  have  iron  nails  that  scratches  a 
bear,  —  and  the  white  bear  above  all.  The  king  has 
fled,  —  the  barons  have  fled;  the  soldiers  have  fled;  the 
captains  have  fled,  —  the  citizens  of  London  alone  fly 
not;  but  there  is  nothing,  save  life  and  property,  left 
to  guard." 

"  Is  this  thy  boasted  influence  with  the  commons  and 
youths  of  the  city  ?  " 

"My  humble  influence,  may  it  please  your  Grace  (I 
say  it  now  openly,  and  I  will  say  it  a  year  hence,  when 
King  Edward  will  hold  his  court  in  these  halls  once 
again),  —  my  influence,  such  as  it  is,  has  been  used 
to  save  lives,  which  resistance  would  waste  in  vain. 
Alack,  alack!  'No  gaping  against  an  oven,'  gracious 
lady !  Your  barge  is  below.  Again  I  say,  there  is  yet 
time,  —  when  the  bell  tolls  the  next  hour,  that  time 
will  be  past !  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         341 

"Then  Jesu  defend  these  children!  "  said  Elizabeth, 
bending  over  her  infants,  and  weeping  bitterly, — "I 
will  go!  " 

"Hold!  "  said  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  "men  desert 
us,  —  but  do  the  spirits  also  forsake?  Speak,  friar! 
canst  thou  yet  do  aught  for  us?  —  and  if  not,  thinkest 
thou  it  is  the  right  hour  to  yield  and  fly  1  " 

"  Daughter,"  said  the  friar,  whose  terror  might  have 
moved  pity,  —  "  as  I  said  before,  thank  yourself.  This 
Warner,  this  —  in  short,  the  lesser  magician,  hath  been 
aided  and  cockered  to  countervail  the  greater,  as  I  fore- 
warned. Fly!  run!  fly!  Verily  and  indeed,  it  is  the 
properest  of  all  times  to  save  ourselves;  and  the  stars 
and  the  book,  and  my  familiar,  all  call  out,  '  Off  and 
away  ! '  " 

"'Fore  Heaven!"  exclaimed  Alwyn,  who  had  hith- 
erto been  dumb  with  astonishment  at  this  singular 
interlude,  —  "  sith  he  who  hath  shipped  the  devil  must 
make  the  best  of  him,  thou  art  for  once  an  honest  man, 
and  a  wise  counsellor.  Hark !  the  second  gun !  The 
earl  is  at  the  gates  of  the  city  !  " 

The  queen  lingered  no  longer,  —  she  caught  her 
youngest  child  in  her  arms;  the  Lady  Scrope  followed 
with  the  two  others, — "Come,  follow  quick,  Master 
Alwyn,"  said  the  duchess,  who,  now  that  she  was  com- 
pelled to  abandon  the  world  of  prediction  and  sooth- 
saying, became  thoroughly  the  sagacious,  plotting,  ready 
woman  of  this  life,  — "  come,  your  face  and  name  will 
be  of  service  to  us,  an  we  meet  with  obstruction." 

Before  Alwyn  could  reply,  the  door  was  thrown 
abruptly  open,  and  several  of  the  officers  of  the  house- 
hold rushed  pell-mell  into  the  royal  presence. 

"  Gracious  queen  !  "  cried  many  voices  at  once,  each 
with  a  different  sentence  of  fear  and  warning,  "  Fly  ! — ■ 


342         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

We  cannot  depend  on  the  soldiers;  the  populace  are  up, 
—  they  shout  for  King  Henry;  Dr.  Godard  is  preaching 
against  you  at  St.  Paul's  Cross;  Sir  Geoffrey  Gates  has 
come  out  of  the  sanctuary,  and  with  him  all  the  mis- 
creants and  outlaws, —  the  mayor  is  now  with  the  rebels  l 
My  !  —  the  sanctuary,  the  sanctuary  !  " 

"  And  who  amongst  you  is  of  highest  rank  1  "  asked 
the  duchess,  calmly;  for  Elizabeth,  completely  over- 
whelmed, seemed  incapable  of  speech  or  movement. 

"  I,  Giles  de  Malvoisin,  knight  banneret,"  said  an 
old  warrior,  armed  cap-a-pie,  who  had  fought  in  France 
under  the  hero  Talbot. 

"Then,  sir,"  said  the  duchess,  with  majesty,  "to 
your  hands  I  confide  the  eldest  daughter  of  your  king. 
Lead  on!  —  we  follow  you.     Elizabeth,  lean  on   me." 

With  this,  supporting  Elizabeth,  and  leading  her 
second  grandchild,   the  duchess  left  the  chamber. 

The  friar  followed  amidst  the  crowd,  for  well  he 
knew  that  if  the  soldiers  of  Warwick  once  caught  hold 
of  him,  he  had  fared  about  as  happily  as  the  fox  amidst 
the  dogs;  and  Alwyn,  forgotten  in  the  general  confu- 
sion, hastened  to  Adam's  chamber. 

The  old  man,  blessing  any  cause  that  induced  his 
patroness  to  dispense  with  his  astrological  labors,  and 
restored  him  to  the  care  of  his  Eureka,  was  calmly  and 
quietly  employed  in  repairing  the  mischief  effected  by 
the  bungling  friar.  And  Sibyll,  who  at  the  first  alarm 
had  flown  to  his  retreat,  joyfully  hailed  the  entrance  of 
the  friendly  goldsmith. 

Alywn  was  indeed  perplexed  what  to  advise,  for  the 
principal  sanctuary  would,  no  doubt,  be  crowded  by 
ruffians  of  the  worst  character;  and  the  better  lodgments 
which  that  place,  a  little  town  in  itself,1  contained,  be 

1  The  Sanctuary  of  Westminster  was  fortified. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  343 

already  preoccupied  by  the  Yorkists  of  rank;  and  the 
smaller  sanctuaries  were  still  more  liable  to  the  same 
objection.  Moreover,  if  Adam  should  be  recognized  by 
any  of  the  rabble  that  would  meet  them  by  the  way,  his 
fate,  by  the  summary  malice  of  a  mob,  was  certain. 
After  all,  the  Tower  would  be  free  from  the  populace; 
and  as  soon  as,  by  a  few  rapid  questions,  Alwyn  learned 
from  Sibyll  that  she  had  reason  to  hope  her  father  would 
find  protection  with  Lord  Warwick,  and  called  to  mind 
that  Marmaduke  ISTevile  was  necessarily  in  the  earl's 
train,  he  advised  them  to  remain  quiet  and  concealed  in 
their  apartments,  and  promised  to  see  and  provide  for 
them  the  moment  the  Tower  was  yielded  up  to  the  new 
government. 

The  counsel  suited  both  Sibyll  and  Warner.  Indeed, 
the  philosopher  could  not  very  easily  have  been  induced 
to  separate  himself  again  from  the  beloved  Eureka;  and 
Sibyll  was  more  occupied  at  that  hour  with  thoughts 
and  prayers  for  the  beloved  Hastings  —  afar,  a  wanderer 
and  an  exile  —  than  with  the  turbulent  events  amidst 
which  her  lot  was  cast. 

In  the  storms  of  a  revolution  which  convulsed  a 
kingdom  and  hurled  to  the  dust  a  throne,  Love  saw 
but  a  single  object,  —  Science  but  its  tranquil  toil. 
Beyond  the  realm  of  men  lies  ever  with  its  joy  and 
sorrow,  its  vicissitude  and  change,  the  domain  of  the 
human  heart.  In  the  revolution ,  the  toy  of  the  scholar 
was  restored  to  him;  in  the  revolution,  the  maiden 
mourned  her  lover.  In  the  movement  of  the  mass, 
each  unit  hath  its  separate  passion.  The  blast  that 
rocks  the  tree,  shakes  a  different  world  in  every  leaf  ! 


344  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAliONS. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Tower  in  Commotion. 

0>r  quitting  the  Tower,  Alwyn  regained  the  boat,  and 
took  his  way  to  the  city;  and  here,  whatever  credit  that 
worthy  and  excellent  personage  may  lose  in  certain  eyes, 
his  historian  is  bound  to  confess  that  his  anxiety  for 
Sibyll  did  not  entirely  distract  his  attention  from  inter- 
est or  ambition.  To  become  the  head  of  his  class,  to 
rise  to  the  first  honors  of  his  beloved  city  of  London, 
had  become  to  Nicholas  Alwyn  a  hope  and  aspiration 
which  made  as  much  a  part  of  his  being  as  glory  to  a 
warrior,  power  to  a  king,  an  Eureka  to  a  scholar;  and, 
though  more  mechanically  than  with  any  sordid  calcula- 
tion or  self-seeking,  Nicholas  Alwyn  repaired  to  his 
Ware  in  the  Chepe.  The  streets,  when  he  landed, 
already  presented  a  different  appearance  from  the  dis- 
order and  tumult  noticeable  when  he  had  before  passed 
them.  The  citizens  now  had  decided  what  course  to 
adopt;  and  though  the  shops,  or  rather  booths,  were 
carefully  closed,  streamers  of  silk,  cloth  of  arras  and 
gold,  were  hung  from  the  upper  casements;  the  bal- 
conies were  crowded  with  holiday  gazers;  the  tickle 
populace  (the  same  herd  that  had  hooted  the  meek 
Henry,  when  led  to  the  Tower)  were  now  shouting, 
"  A  Warwick  !  "  "A  Clarence  !  "  and  pouring  throng 
after  throng  to  gaze  upon  the  army,  which,  with  the 
mayor  and  aldermen,  had  already  entered  the  city. 
Having   seen  to  the  security  of  his  costly  goods,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS.        345 

praised  his  apprentices  duly  for  their  care  of  his  inter- 
ests and  their  abstinence  from  joining  the  crowd, 
Nicholas  then  repaired  to  the  upper  story  of  his  house, 
and  set  forth  from  his  casements  and  balcony  the  rich- 
est stuffs  he  possessed.  However,  there  was  his  own 
shrewd,  sarcastic  smile  on  his  firm  lips,  as  he  said  to 
his  apprentices,  "  When  these  are  done  with,  lay  them 
carefully  by  against  Edward  of  York's  re-entry." 

Meanwhile,  preceded  by  trumpets,  drums,  and  her- 
alds, the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  his  royal  son-indaw  rode 
into  the  shouting  city.  Behind  came  the  litter  of  the 
Duchess  of  Clarence,  attended  by  the  Earl  of  Oxford, 
Lord  Fitzhugh,  the  Lords  Stanley  and  Shrewsbury, 
Sir  Robert  de  Lytton,  and  a  princely  cortege  of  knights, 
squires,  and  nobles;  while,  file  upon  file,  rank  upon 
rank,  followed  the  long  march  of  the  unresisted 
armament. 

Warwick,  clad  in  complete  armor  of  Milan  steel,  — 
save  the  helmet,  which  was  borne  behind  him  by  his 
squire,  — mounted  on  his  own  noble  Saladin,  preserved, 
upon  a  countenance  so  well  suited  to  command  the 
admiration  of  a  populace,  the  same  character  as  here- 
tofore, of  manly  majesty  and  lofty  frankness.  But  to 
a  nearer  and  more  searching  gaze  than  was  likely  to  be 
bent  upon  him  in  such  an  hour,  the  dark,  deep  traces 
of  care,  anxiety,  and  passion  might  have  been  detected 
in  the  lines  which  now  thickly  intersected  the  forehead, 
once  so  smooth  and  furrowless;  and  his  kingly  eye,  not 
looking,  as  of  old,  right  forward  as  he  moved,  cast 
unquiet,  searching  glances  about  him  and  around,  as 
he  bowed  his  bare  head  from  side  to  side  of  the  wel- 
coming thousands. 

A  far  greater  change,  to  outward  appearance,  was 
visible  in  the  fair  young  face  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence. 


346         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAEONS. 

His  complexion,  usually  sanguine  and  blooming,  like 
his  elder  brother's,  was  now  little  less  pale  than  that  of 
Richard.  A  sullen,  moody,  discontented  expression, 
which  not  all  the  heartiness  of  the  greetings  he  received 
could  dispel,  contrasted  forcibly  with  the  good-humored 
laughing  recklessness,  which  had  once  drawn  a  "God 
bless  him !  "  from  all  on  whom  rested  his  light-blue, 
joyous  eye.  He  was  unarmed,  save  by  a  corselet  richly 
embossed  with  gold.  His  short  manteline  of  crimson 
velvet;  his  hosen  of  white  cloth  laced  with  gold,  and 
his  low  horseman's  boots  of  Spanish  leather,  curiously 
carved  and  broidered,  with  long,  golden  spurs;  his 
plumed  and  jewelled  cap;  his  white  charger  with  hous- 
ings enriched  with  pearls  and  blazing  with  cloth-of- 
gold ;  his  broad  collar  of  precious  stones,  with  the  order 
of  St.  George;  his  general's  truncheon  raised  aloft,  and 
his  Plantagenet  banner  borne  by  the  herald  over  his 
royal  head ,  —  caught  the  eyes  of  the  crowd ,  only  the 
more  to  rivet  them  on  an  aspect  ill  fitting  the  triumph 
of  a  bloodless  victory.  At  his  left  hand,  where  the 
breadth  of  the  streets  permitted,  rode  Henry  Lee, 
the  mayor,  uttering  no  word,  unless  appealed  to,  and 
then  answering  but  with  chilling  reverence  and  dry 
monosyllables. 

A  narrow  winding  in  the  streets,  which  left  Warwick 
and  Clarence  alone  side  by  side,  gave  the  former  the 
opportunity  he  had  desired. 

"  How,  prince  and  son,"  he  said  in  a  hollow  whisper, 
"  is  it  with  this  brow  of  care  that  thou  saddenest  our 
conquest,  and  enterest  the  capital  we  gain  without  a 
blow  ?  " 

"By  St.  George!  "  answered  Clarence,  sullenly,  and 
in  the  same  tone;  "  thinkest  thou  it  chafes  not  the  son 
of  Richard  of  York,  after  such  toils  and  bloodshed,  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         347 

minister  to  the  dethronement  of  his  kin  and  the  restora- 
tion of  the  foe  of  his  race  ?  " 

"  Thou  shouldst  have  thought  of  that  before,"  returned 
Warwick,  but  with  sadness  and  pity  in  the  reproach. 

"  Ay,  before  Edward  of  Lancaster  was  made  my  lord 
and  brother,"  retorted  Clarence,  bitterly. 

"Hush!"  said  the  earl,  "and  calm  thy  brow.  Not 
thus  didst  thou  speak  at  Amboise;  either  thou  wert 
then  less  frank,  or  more  generous.  But  regrets  are 
vain:  we  have  raised  the  whirlwind,  and  must  rule  it." 

And  with  that,  in  the  action  of  a  man  who  Avould 
escape  his  own  thoughts,  Warwick  made  his  black  steed 
demivolt;  and  the  crowd  shouted  again  the  louder  at 
the  earl's  gallant  horsemanship,  and  Clarence's  dazzling 
collar  of  jewels. 

While  thus  the  procession  of  the  victors,  the  nominal 
object  of  all  this  mighty  and  sudden  revolution, — of 
this  stir  and  uproar;  of  these  shining  arms  and  flaunting 
banners;  of  this  heaven  or  hell  in  the  deep  passions 
of  men,  —  still  remained  in  his  prison-chamber  of  the 
Tower,  a  true  type  of  the  thing  factions  contend  for; 
absent,  insignificant,  unheeded,  and,  save  by  a  few  of 
the  leaders  and  fanatical  priests,  absolutely  forgotten ! 

To  this  solitary  chamber  we  are  now  transported;  yet 
solitary  is  a  word  of  doubtful  propriety:  for  though  the 
royal  captive  was  alone,  so  far  as  the  human  species 
make  up  a  man's  companionship  and  solace, — though 
the  faithful  gentlemen,  Manning,  Bedle,  and  Allerton, 
had,  on  the  news  of  Warwick's  landing,  been  thrust 
from  his  chamber,  and  were  now  in  the  ranks  of  his 
new  and  strange  defenders,  yet  power  and  jealousy  had 
not  left  his  captivity  all  forsaken.  There  was  still  the 
starling  in  its  cage,  and  the  fat,  asthmatic  spaniel  still 
wagged  its  tail  at  the  sound  of  its  master's  voice,  or 


348         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  rustle  of  his  long  gown.  And  still  from  the  ivory 
crucifix  gleamed  the  sad  and  holy  face  of  the  God,  — 
present  ahvay,  —  and  who,  by  faith  and  patience,  link- 
eth  evermore  grief  to  joy,  but  earth  to  heaven. 

The  august  prisoner  had  not  been  so  utterly  cut  off 
from  all  knowledge  of  the  outer  life  as  to  be  ignorant  of 
some  unwonted  and  important  stir  in  the  fortress  and 
the  city.  The  squire  who  had  brought  him  his  morn- 
ing meal  had  been  so  agitated  as  to  excite  the  captive's 
attention,  and  had  then  owned  that  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
had  proclaimed  Henry  king,  and  was  on  his  march  to 
London.  But  neither  the  squire  nor  any  of  the  officers 
of  the  Tower  dared  release  the  illustrious  captive,  nor 
even  remove  him  as  yet  to  the  state  apartments  vacated 
by  Elizabeth.  They  knew  not  what  might  be  the 
pleasure  of  the  stout  earl  or  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  and 
feared  over-officiousness  might  be  their  worst  crime. 
But  naturally  imagining  that  Henry's  first  command, 
at  the  new  position  of  things,  might  be  for  liberty,  and 
perplexed  whether  to  yield  or  refuse,  they  absented 
themselves  from  his  summons,  and  left  the  whole  Tower 
in  which  he  was  placed  actually  deserted. 

From  his  casement  the  king  could  see,  however,  the 
commotion,  and  the  crowds  upon  the  wharf  and  river, 
with  the  gleam  of  arms  and  banners ;  —  and  hear  the 
sounds  of  "  A  Warwick  !  "  "  A  Clarence !  "  "  Long  live 
good  Henry  VI.!  "  A  strange  combination  of  names, 
which  disturbed  and  amazed  him  much!  But,  by  de- 
grees, the  unwonted  excitement  of  perplexity  and  sur- 
prise settled  back  into  the  calm  serenity  of  his  most 
gentle  mind  and  temper.  That  trust  in  an  all-directing 
Providence,  to  which  lie  had  schooled  himself,  had  (if  we 
may  so  say  with  reverence)  driven  his  beautiful  soul  into 
the  opposite  error,  so  fatal  to  the  affairs  of  life ;  the  error 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  349 

that  deadens  and  benumbs  the  energy  of  free  will  and  the 
noble  alertness  of  active  duty.  Why  strain  and  strive  for 
the  things  of  this  world  1  God  would  order  all  for  the 
best.  Alas!  God  hath  placed  us  in  this  world,  each, 
from  king  to  peasant,  with  nerves,  and  hearts,  and 
blood,  and  passions,  to  struggle  with  our  kind ;  and,  no 
matter  how  heavenly  the  goal,  to  labor  with  the  million 
in  the  race! 

"  Forsooth, "  murmured  the  king,  as,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  him,  he  paced  slowly  to  and  fro  the  floor,  "  this 
ill  world  seemeth  but  a  feather,  blown  about  by  the 
winds,  and  never  to  be  at  rest.  Hark!  Warwick  and 
King  Henry,  —  the  lion  and  the  lamb  !  Alack,  and  we 
are  fallen  on  no  Paradise,  where  such  union  were  not 
a  miracle !  Foolish  bird !  "  —  and  with  a  pitying  smile 
upon  that  face  whose  holy  sweetness  might  have  disarmed 
a  fiend,  he  paused  before  the  cage  and  contemplated  his 
fellow-captive,  — "  foolish  bird,  the  uneasiness  and  tur- 
moil without  have  reached  even  to  thee.  Thou  beatest 
thy  wings  against  the  wires,  —  thou  turnest  thy  bright 
eyes  to  mine  restlessly.  Why  1  Pantest  thou  to  be  free, 
silly  one,  that  the  hawk  may  swoop  on  its  defenceless 
prey  1  Better,  perhaps,  the  cage  for  thee,  and  the 
prison  for  thy  master.  Well,  —  out  if  thou  wilt!  Here 
at  least  thou  art  safe  !  "  and  opening  the  cage  the  starling 
flew  to  his  bosom,  and  nestled  there,  with  its  small  clear 
voice  mimicking  the  human  sound. 

"  Poor  Henry,  poor  Henry !  Wicked  men ,  —  poor 
Henry!" 

The  king  bowed  his  meek  head  over  his  favorite,  and 
the  fat  spaniel,  jealous  of  the  monopolized  caress,  came 
waddling  towards  its  master,  with  a  fond  whine,  and 
looked  up  at  him  with  eyes  that  expressed  more  of  faith 
and  love  than  Edward  of  York,  the  ever  wooing  and  ever 
wooed,  had  read  in  the  gaze  of  woman. 


350         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

With  those  companions,  and  with  thoughts  growing 
more  and  more  composed  and  rapt  from  all  that  had 
roused  and  vexed  his  interest  in  the  forenoon,  Henry 
remained  till  the  hour  had  long  passed  for  his  evening 
meal.  Surprised  at  last  by  a  negligence  which  (to  do 
his  jailers  justice)  had  never  before  occurred,  and  finding 
no  response  to  his  hand-bell,  —  no  attendant  in  the  ante- 
room, the  outer  doors  locked  as  usual,  —  but  the  senti- 
nel's tread  in  the  court  below,  hushed  and  still,  —  a  cold 
thrill  for  a  moment  shot  through  his  blood.  "  Was  he 
left  for  hunger  to  do  its  silent  work  !  "  Slowly  he  bent 
his  way  from  the  outer  rooms  back  to  his  chamber ;  and, 
as  he  passed  the  casement  again,  he  heard,  though  far  in 
the  distance,  through  the  dim  air  of  the  deepening  twi- 
light, the  cry  of  "  Long  live  King  Henry !  " 

This  devotion  without,  —  this  neglect  within,  was  a 
wondrous  contrast!  Meanwhile  the  spaniel,  with  that 
instinct  of  fidelity  which  divines  the  wants  of  the  master, 
had  moved  snuffling  and  smelling,  round  and  round  the 
chambers,  till  it  stopped  and  scratched  at  a  cupboard  in 
the  anteroom,  and  then  with  a  joyful  bark  flew  back  to 
the  king,  and,  taking  the  hem  of  his  gown  between  its 
teeth,  led  him  towards  the  spot  it  had  discovered;  and 
there,  in  truth,  a  few  of  those  small  cakes,  usually  served 
up  for  the  night's  livery,  had  been  carelessly  left.  They 
sufficed  for  the  day's  food,  and  the  king,  the  dog,  and  the 
starling,  shared  them  peacefully  together.  This  done, 
Henry  carefully  replaced  his  bird  in  its  cage,  bade  the 
dog  creep  to  the  hearth  and  lie  still,  passed  on  to  his 
little  oratory,  with  the  relics  of  cross  and  saint  strewed 
around  the  solemn  image,  —  and  in  prayer  forgot  the 
world!  Meanwhile  darkness  set  in:  the  streets  had 
grown  deserted,  save  where  in  some  nooks  and  bylanes 
gathered  groups  of  the  soldiery ;    but  for  the  most  part 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         351 

the  discipline  in  which  Warwick  held  his  army,  had 
dismissed  those  stern  loiterers  to  the  various  quarters 
provided  for  them,  and  little  remained  to  remind  the 
peaceful  citizens  that  a  throne  had  been  uprooted,  and  a 
revolution  consummated,  that  eventful  day.  It  was  at 
this  time  that  a  tall  man,  closely  wrapped  in  his  large 
horseman's  cloak,  passed  alone  through  the  streets,  and 
gained  the  Tower.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice  by  the 
great  gate,  the  sentinel  started  in  alarm ;  a  few  moments 
more,  and  all  left  to  guard  the  fortress  were  gathered 
round  him.  From  these  he  singled  out  one  of  the 
squires  who  usually  attended  Henry,  and  bade  him 
light  his  steps  to  the  king's  chamber.  As  in  that 
chamber  Henry  rose  from  his  knees,  he  saw  the  broad, 
red  light  of  a  torch  flickering  under  the  chinks  of  the 
threshold;  he  heard  the  slow  tread  of  approaching  foot- 
steps, the  spaniel  uttered  a  low  growl,  its  eyes  sparkling, 
—  the  door  opened,  and  the  torch  borne  behind  by  the 
squire,  and  raised  aloft  so  that  its  glare  threw  a  broad 
light  over  the  whole  chamber,  brought  into  full  view 
the  dark  and  haughty  countenance  of  the  Earl  of 
Warwick. 

The  squire,  at  a  gesture  from  the  earl,  lighted  the 
sconces  on  the  wall,  the  tapers  on  the  table,  and  quickly 
vanished.  King-maker  and  king  were  alone!  At  the 
first  sight  of  Warwick,  Henry  had  turned  pale,  and 
receded  a  few  paces,  with  one  hand  uplifted  in  adju- 
ration or  command,  while  with  the  other  he  veiled  his 
eyes,  —  whether  that  this  startled  movement  came  from 
the  weakness  of  bodily  nerves,  much  shattered  by  sick- 
ness and  confinement,  or  from  the  sudden  emotions 
called  forth  by  the  aspect  of  one  who  had  wrought  him 
calamities  so  dire.  But  the  craven's  terror  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  living  foe  was,  with  all  his  meekness,  all  his 


3j2       the  last  of  the  barons. 

holy  abhorrence  of  wrath  and  warfare,  as  unknown  to 
that  royal  heart  as  to  the  high  blood  of  his  Hero-sire. 
And  so,  after  a  brief  pause,  and  a  thought  that  took  the 
shape  of  prayer,  not  for  safety  from  peril,  hut  for  grace 
to  forgive  the  past,  Henry  VI.  advanced  to  Warwick, 
who  still  stood  dumb  by  the  threshold,  combating  with 
his  own  mingled  and  turbulent  emotions  of  pride  and 
shame,  and  said,  in  a  voice  majestic  even  from  its  very 
mildness,  — 

"  What  tale  of  new  woe  and  evil  hath  the  Earl  of 
Salisbury  and  Warwick  come  to  announce  to  the  poor 
captive  who  was  once  a  king  1  " 

"  Forgive  me !  Forgiveness,  Henry,  my  lord,  —  for- 
giveness ! "  exclaimed  Warwick,  falling  on  his  knee. 
The  meek  reproach;  the  touching  words;  the  mien  and 
visage  altered,  since  last  beheld,  from  manhood  into 
age;  the  gray  hairs  and  bended  form  of  the  king,  — 
went  at  once  to  that  proud  heart;  and  as  the  earl  bent 
over  the  wan,  thin  hand,  resigned  to  his  lips,  a  tear  upon 
its  surface  out-sparkled  all  the  jewels  that  it  wore. 

"  Yet  no, "  continued  the  earl  (impatient,  as  proud 
men  are,  to  hurry  from  repentance  to  atonement,  for 
the  one  is  of  humiliation  and  the  other  of  pride), — 
"yet  no,  my  liege;  not  now  do  I  crave  thy  pardon, 
No ;  but  when  begirt,  in  the  halls  of  thine  ancestors, 
with  the  peers  of  England,  the  victorious  banner  of 
St.  George  waving  above  the  throne  which  thy  servant 
hath  rebuilt,  —  then,  when  the  trumpets  are  sounding 
thy  rights  without  the  answer  of  a  foe,  then,  when 
from  shore  to  shore  of  fair  England  the  shout  of  thy 
people  echoes  to  the  vault  of  heaven;  then  will  War- 
wick kneel  again  to  King  Henry,  and  sue  for  the  pardon 
he  hath  not  ignobly  won!  " 

"  Alack,  sir, "  said  the  king,  with  accents  of  mournful, 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  353 

yet  half-reproving  kindness,  "  it  was  not  amidst  trumps 
and  banners  that  the  Son  of  God  set  mankind  the  ex- 
emplar and  pattern  of  charity  to  foes.  When  thy  hand 
struck  the  spurs  from  my  heel,  when  thou  didst  parade 
me  through  the  hooting  crowd  to  this  solitary  cell, — 
then,  Warwick,  I  forgave  thee,  and  prayed  to  heaven 
for  pardon  for  thee,  if  thou  didst  wrong  me,  for  myself, 
if  a  king's  fault  had  deserved  a  subject's  harshness. 
Rise,  sir  earl ;  our  God  is  a  jealous  God,  and  the  atti- 
tude of  worship  is  for  Him  alone. " 

Warwick  rose  from  his  knee ;  and  the  king,  perceiv- 
ing and  compassionating  the  struggle  which  shook  the 
strong  man's  breast,  laid  his  hand  on  the  earl's  shoul- 
der, and  said,  "  Peace  be  with  thee !  —  thou  hast  done 
me  no  real  harm.  I  have  been  as  happy  in  these  walls 
as  in  the  green  parks  of  Windsor ;  happier  than  in  the 
halls  of  state,  or  in  the  midst  of  wrangling  armies. 
What  tidings  now  1  " 

"  My  liege,  is  it  possible  that  you  know  not  that 
Edward  is  a  fugitive  and  a  beggar,  and  that  Heaven 
hath  permitted  me  to  avenge  at  once  your  injuries  and 
my  own  ?  This  day,  without  a  blow,  I  have  regained 
your  city  of  London ;  its  streets  are  manned  with  my 
army.  From  the  council  of  peers,  and  warriors,  and 
prelates,  assembled  at  my  house,  I  have  stolen  hither 
alone  and  in  secret,  that  I  might  be  the  first  to  hail 
your  Grace's  restoration  to  the  throne  of  Henry  V." 

The  king's  face  so  little  changed  at  this  intelligence, 
that  its  calm  sadness  almost  enraged  the  impetuous 
Warwick,  and  with  difficulty  he  restrained  from  giving 
utterance  to  the  thought,  "  He  is  not  worthy  of  a  throne 
who  cares  so  little  to  possess  it. " 

"  Well-a-day !  "  said  Henry,  sighing,  "  Heaven,  then, 
hath  sore  trials  yet  in  store  for  mine  old  age!  Tray, 
vol.  ii.  —  23 


354         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

Tray !  "'  and  stooping,  he  gently  patted  his  dog,  who 
kept  watch  at  his  feet,  still  glaring  suspiciously  at 
Warwick,  — "  we  are  both  too  old  for  the  chase  now ! 
Will  you  he  seated,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  Trust  me,"  said  the  earl,  as  he  obeyed  the  command, 
having  first  set  chair  and  footstool  for  the  king,  who 
listened  to  him  with  downcast  eyes  and  his  head  droop- 
ing on  his  bosom,  — "  trust  me,  your  later  days,  my 
liege,  will  be  free  from  the  storms  of  your  youth.  All 
chance  of  Edward's  hostility  is  expired.  Your  alliance, 
though  I  seem  boastful  so  to  speak,  —  your  alliance 
with  one  in  Avhom  the  people  can  confide  for  some  skill 
in  war,  and  some  more  profound  experience  of  the 
habits  and  tempers  of  your  subjects  than  your  former 
councillors  could  possess,  will  leave  your  honored  leisure 
free  for  the  holy  meditations  it  affects ;  and  your  glory, 
as  your  safety,  shall  be  the  care  of  men  who  can  awe 
this  rebellious  world." 

"  Alliance  !  "  said  the  king,  who  had  caught  but  that 
one  word.     "  Of  what  speakest  thou,  sir  earl  ?  " 

"  These  missives  will  explain  all,  my  liege.  This 
letter  from  my  lady  the  Queen  Margaret,  and  this  from 
your  gracious  son,  the  Prince  of  Wales. " 

"  Edward !  my  Edward  !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  with 
a  father's  burst  of  emotion.  "  Thou  hast  seen  him, 
then  1  —  bears  he  his  health  well  ?  —  is  he  of  cheer  and 
heart  1  " 

"  He  is  strong  and  fair,  and  full  of  promise,  and 
brave  as  his  grandsire's  sword." 

"  And  knows  he  —  knows  he  well,  that  we  all  are 
the  potter's  clay  in  the  hands  of  God  ?  " 

"  My  liege, "  said  Warwick,  embarrassed,  "  he  has  as 
much  devotion  as  befits  a  Christian  knight  and  a  goodly 
prince." 


THE  LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  355 

"  Ah !  "  sighed  the  king,  "  ye  men  of  arms  have  strange 
thoughts  on  these  matters ;  "  and,  cutting  the  silk  of 
the  letters,  he  turned  from  the  warrior.  Shading  his 
face  with  his  hand,  the  earl  darted  his  keen  glance  on 
the  features  of  the  king,  as,  drawing  near  to  the  table, 
the  latter  read  the  communications  which  announced  his 
new  connection  with  his  ancient  foe. 

But  Henry  was  at  first  so  affected  by  the  sight  of 
Margaret's  well-known  hand,  that  he  thrice  put  down 
her  letter,  and  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  eyes. 

"My  poor  Margaret,  how  thou  hast  suffered!"  he 
murmured ;  "  these  very  characters  are  less  firm  and 
bold  than  they  were.  Well,  well !  "  and  at  last  he 
betook  himself  resolutely  to  the  task.  Once  or  twice 
his  countenance  changed,  and  he  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  surprise.  But  the  proposition  of  a  marriage  between 
Prince  Edward  and  the  Lady  Anne  did  not  revolt  his 
forgiving  mind,  as  it  had  the  haughty  and  stern  temper 
of  his  consort.  And  when  he  had  concluded  his  son's 
epistle,  full  of  the  ardor  of  his  love  and  the  spirit  of 
his  youth,  the  king  passed  his  left  hand  over  his  brow, 
and  then  extending  his  right  to  Warwick,  said,  in  accents 
which  trembled  with  emotion,  "  Serve  my  son, —  since 
he  is  thine,  too :  give  peace  to  this  distracted  kingdom, 
repair  my  errors,  press  not  hard  upon  those  who  con- 
tend against  us, —  and  Jeou  and  his  saints  will  bless  this 
bond!" 

The  earl's  object,  perhaps,  in  seeking  a  meeting  with 
Henry,  so  private  and  unwitnessed,  had  been  that 
none,  not  even  his  brother,  might  hearken  to  the 
reproaches  he  anticipated  to  receive,  or  say  hereafter 
that  he  heard  Warwick,  returned  as  victor  and  avenger 
to  his  native  land,  descend,  in  the  hour  of  triumph,  to 
extenuation  and  excuse.     So  affronted,    imperilled,    or 


356         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

to  use  his  own  strong  word,  "  so  despaired, "  had  he 
been  in  the  former  rule  of  Henry,  that  his  intellect, 
which,  however  vigorous  in  his  calmer  moods,  was 
liable  to  be  obscured  and  dulled  by  his  passions,  had 
half-confounded  the  gentle  king  with  his  ferocious 
wife  and  stern  councillors,  and  he  had  thought  he 
never  could  have  humbled  himself  to  the  man,  even 
so  far  as  knighthood's  submission  to  Margaret's  sex 
had  allowed  him  to  the  woman.  But  the  sweetness  of 
Henry's  manners  and  disposition;  the  saint-like  dignity 
which  he  had  manifested  throughout  this  painful  inter- 
view, and  the  touching  grace  and  trustful  generosity 
of  his  last  words,  —  words  which  consummated  the  earl's 
large  projects  of  ambition  and  revenge, —  had  that  effect 
upon  Warwick  which  the  preaching  of  some  holy  man, 
dwelling  upon  the  patient  sanctity  of  the  Saviour,  had 
of  old  on  a  grim  Crusader,  all  incapable  himself  of 
practising  such  meek  excellence,  and  yet  all-moved  and 
penetrated  by  its  loveliness  in  another;  and,  like  such 
Crusader,  the  representation  of  all  mildest  and  most 
forgiving  singularly  stirred  up  in  the  warrior's  mind 
images  precisely  the  reverse, —  images  of  armed  valor 
and  stern  vindication,  as  if,  where  the  Cross  was  planted, 
sprang  from  the  earth  the  standard  and  the  war-horse ! 

"  Perish  your  foes !  May  war  and  storm  scatter 
them  as  the  chaff  !  My  liege,  my  royal  master, "  con- 
tinued the  earl,  in  a  deep,  low,  faltering  voice,  "  why 
knew  I  not  thy  holy  and  princely  heart  before  1  Why 
stood  so  many  between  Warwick's  devotion  and  a  king 
so  worthy  to  command  it  1  How  poor  beside  thy  great- 
hearted fortitude  and  thy  Christian  heroism,  seems  the 
savage  valor  of  false  Edward  !  Shame  upon  one  who 
can  betray  the  trust  thou  hast  placed  in  him.  Never 
will   I!     Never!    I    swear   it!      No!    though   all   Eng- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         357 

land  desert  thee,  I  will  stand  alone  with  my  hreast  of 
mail  before  thy  throne !  Oh,  would  that  my  triumph 
had  been  less  peaceful  and  less  bloodless!  would  that 
a  hundred  battle-fields  were  yet  left  to  prove  how 
deeply  —  deeply  in  his  heart  of  hearts  —  Warwick  feels 
the  forgiveness  of  his  king  !  " 

"  Not  so,  not  so,  not  so,  not  battle-fields,  Warwick  !  " 
said  Henry.  "  Ask  not  to  serve  the  king  by  shedding 
one  subject's  blood." 

"Your  pious  will  be  obeyed!"  replied  Warwick. 
"  We  will  see  if  mercy  can  effect  in  others  what  thy 
pardon  effects  in  me.  And  now,  my  liege,  no  longer 
must  these  walls  confine  thee.  The  chambers  of  the 
palace  await  their  sovereign.  What  ho,  there!  "  and 
going  to  the  door,  he  threw  it  open,  and,  agreeably  to 
the  orders  he  had  given  below,  all  the  officers  left  in 
the  fortress  stood  crowded  together  in  the  small  ante- 
room, bareheaded,  with  tapers  in  their  hands,  to  con- 
duct the  monarch  to  the  halls  of  his  conquered  foe. 

At  the  sudden  sight  of  the  earl,  these  men,  struck 
involuntarily  and  at  once  by  the  grandeur  of  his  person 
and  his  animated  aspect,  burst  forth  with  the  rude 
retainer's  cry,   "A  Warwick!  a  Warwick!" 

"Silence!"  thundered  the  earl's  deep  voice.  "Who 
names  the  subject  in  the  sovereign's  presence  ?  Behold 
your  king  !  " 

The  men,  abashed  by  the  reproof,  bowed  their  heads 
and  sank  on  their  knees,  as  Warwick  took  a  taper  from 
the  table,  to  lead  the  way  from  the  prison. 

Then  Henry  turned  slowly,  and  gazed  with  a  linger- 
ing eye  upon  the  walls,  which  even  sorrow  and  solitude 
had  endeared.  The  little  oratory,  the  crucifix,  the 
relics,  the  embers  burning  low  on  the  hearth,  the  rude 
timepiece, —  all  took  to  his  thoughtful   eye   an   almost 


358  THE   LAST   OF  TftE  BARONS. 

human  aspect  of  melancholy  and  omen;  and  the  bird, 
roused,  whether  by  the  glare  of  the  lights,  or  the  recent 
shout  of  the  men,  opened  its  bright  eyes,  and  fluttering 
restlessly  to  and  fro,  shrilled  out  its  favorite  sentence, 
"Poor  Henry! — poor  Henry! — wicked  men!  —  who 
would  be  a  king  1  " 

"  Thou  hearest  it,  Warwick  ? "  said  Henry,  shaking 
his  head. 

"  Could  an  eagle  speak,  it  would  have  another  cry 
than  the  starling,"  returned  the  earl,  with  a  proud 
smile. 

"  Why,  look  you, "  said  the  king,  once  more  releas- 
ing the  bird,  which  settled  on  his  wrist,  "  the  eagle 
had  broken  his  heart  in  the  narrow  cage,  —  the  eagle 
had  been  no  comforter  for  a  captive;  it  is  these  gentler 
ones  that  love  and  soothe  us  best  in  our  adversities. 
Tray,  Tray ,  fawn  not  now,  sirrah,  or  I  shall  think  thou 
hast  been  false  in  thy  fondness  heretofore!  Cousin,  I 
attend  you. " 

And  with  his  bird  on  his  wrist,  his  dog  at  his  heels, 
Henry  VI.  followed  the  earl  to  the  illuminated  hall  of 
Edward,  where  the  table  was  spread  for  the  royal  repast, 
and  where  his  old  friends,  Manning,  Bedle,  and  Allerton, 
stood  weeping  for  joy;  while,  from  the  gallery  raised 
aloft,  the  musicians  gave  forth  the  rough  and  stirring 
melody  which  had  gradually  fallen  out  of  usage,  but 
which  was  once  the  Norman's  national  air,  and  which 
the  warlike  Margaret  of  Anjou  had  re  taught  to  her 
minstrels,   "The  Battle  Hymn  of  Rollo." 


BOOK  XT. 

THE   NEW    POSITION    OF    THE   KING-MAKER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Wherein  Master  Adam  Warner  is  notably  Commended  and  Ad- 
vanced—  And  Greatness  says  to  Wisdom,  "Thy  destiny  be 
mine,  Amen." 

The  Chronicles  inform  us,  that  two  or  three  days  after 
the  entrance  of  Warwick  and  Clarence  —  namely,  on  the 
6th  of  October  —  those  two  leaders,  accompanied  by  the 
Lords  Shrewsbury,  Stanley,  and  a  numerous  and  noble 
train,  visited  the  Tower  in  formal  state,  and  escorted 
the  king,  robed  in  blue  velvet,  the  crown  on  his  head, 
to  public  thanksgivings  at  St.  Paul's,  and  thence  to  the 
Bishop's  Palace,1  where  he  continued  chiefly  to  reside. 

The  proclamation  that  announced  the  change  of 
dynasty  was  received  with  apparent  acquiescence  through 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  kingdom,  and  the  restora- 
tion of  the  Lancastrian  line  seemed  yet  the  more  firm 
and  solid  by  the  magnanimous  forbearance  of  Warwick 
and  his  councils.  Not  one  execution  that  could  be 
termed  the  act  of  a  private  revenge,  stained  with  blood 
the  second  reign  of  the  peaceful  Henry.      One  only  head 

1  Not  to  the  Palace  at  Westminster,  as  some  historians,  prefer- 
ring the  French  to  the  English  authorities,  have  asserted,  —  that 
palace  was  out  of  repair. 


360         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

fell  on  the  scaffold, —  that  of  the  Earl  of  Worcester.1 
This  solitary  execution,  which  was  regarded  by  all  classes 
as  a  due  concession  to  justice,  only  yet  more  illustrated 
the  general  mildness  of  the  new  rule. 

It  was  in  the  earliest  days  of  this  sudden  Restoration, 
that  Alwyn  found  the  occasion  to  serve  his  friends  in  the 
Tower.  Warwick  was  eager  to  conciliate  all  the  citizens 
who,  whether  frankly  or  grudgingly,  had  supported  his 
cause ;  and,  amongst  these,  he  was  soon  informed  of  the 
part  taken  in  the  Guildhall  by  the  rising  goldsmith. 
He  sent  for  Alwyn  to  his  house  in  Warwick  Lane,  and 
after  complimenting  him  on  his  advance  in  life  and 
repute,  since  Nicholas  had  waited  on  him  with  bawbles 
for  his  embassy  to  France,  he  offered  him  the  special 
rank  of  goldsmith  to  the  king. 

The  wary,  yet  honest  trader  paused  a  moment  in  some 
embarrassment  before  he  answered, — 

"  My  good  lord,  you  are  noble  and  gracious  eno'  to 
understand  and  forgive  me  when  I  say  that  I  have  had, 
in  the  upstart  of  my  fortunes,  the  countenance  of  the 
late  King  Edward  and  his  queen;  and  though  the  public 
weal  made  me  advise  my  fellow-citizens  not  to  resist 
your  entry,  I  would  not,  at  least,  have  it  said  that  my 
desertion  had  benefited  my  private  fortunes. " 

Warwick  colored,  and  his  lip  curled.  "Tush,  man, 
assume  not  virtues  which  do  not  exist  amongst  the  sons 

1  Lord  Warwick  himself  did  not  sit  in  judgment  on  Worcester. 
He  was  tried  aud  condemned  by  Lord  Oxford.  Though  some  old 
offences  in  his  Irish  government  were  alleged  against  him,  the 
cruelties  which  rendered  him  so  odious  were  of  recent  date.  He 
had  (as  we  hefore  took  occasion  to  relate)  empaled  twenty  persons 
after  Warwick's  flight  into  France.  The  "  VVarkworth  Chronicle  " 
says,  "  He  was  ever  afterwardes  greatly  behated  among  the  people 
for  this  disordynate  dethe  that  he  used,  contrary  to  the  laws  of  the 
laude." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         361 

of  trade,  nor,  much  I  trow,  amongst  the  sons  of  Adam. 
I  read  thy  mind.  Thou  thinkest  it  unsafe  openly  to 
commit  thyself  to  the  new  state.  Fear  not, —  we  are 
firm." 

"  Nay,  my  lord, "  returned  Alwyn,  "  it  is  not  so.  But 
there  are  many  better  citizens  than  I,  who  remember  that 
the  Yorkists  were  ever  friends  to  commerce.  And  you 
will  find  that  only  by  great  tenderness  to  our  crafts  you 
can  win  the  heart  of  London,  though  you  have  passed 
its  gates." 

"  I  shall  be  just  to  all  men, "  answered  the  earl,  dryly ; 
"  but  if  the  flat-caps  are  false,  there  are  eno'  of  bonnets 
of  steel  to  watch  over  the  Red  Rose !  " 

"  You  are  said,  my  lord, "  returned  Alwyn,  bluntly, 
"  to  love  the  barons,  the  knights,  the  gentry,  the  yeomen, 
and  the  peasants,  but  to  despise  the  traders, —  I  fear  me, 
that  report  in  this  is  true. " 

"I  love  not  the  trader  spirit,  man, —  the  spirit  that 
cheats,  and  cringes,  and  haggles,  and  splits  straws  for 
pence,  and  roasts  eggs  by  other  men's  blazing  rafters. 
Edward  of  York,  forsooth,  was  a  great  trader!  It 
was  a  sorry  hour  for  England,  when  such  as  ye,  Nick 
Alwyn,  left  your  green  villages  for  loom  and  booth. 
But  thus  far  have  I  spoken  to  you  as  a  brave  fellow,  and 
of  the  north  countree.  I  have  no  time  to  waste  on 
words.  Wilt  thou  accept  mine  offer,  or  name  another 
boon  in  my  power?  The  man  who  hath  served  me 
wrongs  me  —  till  I  have  served  him  again  !  " 

"  My  lord,  yes ;  I  will  name  such  a  boon :  safetjr,  and 
if  you  will,  some  grace  and  honor,  to  a  learned  scholar 
now  in  the  Tower, —  one  Adam  Warner,  whom —  " 

"  Now  in  the  Tower  !  Adam  Warner  !  And  wanting 
a  friend,  I  no  more  in  exile  !  That  is  my  affair,  not 
thine.      Grace,  honor, —  ay,  to  his  heart's  content.     And 


362         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

his  noble  daughter  1  Mart  Dieu  !  she  shall  choose  her 
bridegroom  among  the  best  of  England.  Is  she,  too,  in 
the  fortress?  " 

"  Yes, "  said  Alwyn,  briefly,  not  liking  the  last  part  of 
the  earl's  speech. 

The  earl  rang  the  bell  on  his  table.  "  Send  hither 
Sir  Marmaduke  Nevile." 

Alwyn  saw  his  former  rival  enter,  and  heard  the 
earl  commission  him  to  accompany,  with  a  fitting  train, 
his  own  litter  to  the  Tower.  "  And  you,  Alwyn,  go  with 
your  foster-brother,  and  pray  Master  Warner  and  his 
daughter  to  be  my  guests  for  their  own  pleasure.  Come 
hither,  my  rude  Northman,  —  come.  I  see  I  shall  have 
many  secret  foes  in  this  city,  —  wilt  not  thou  at  least  be 
Warwick's  open  friend?  " 

Alwyn  found  it  hard  to  resist  the  charm  of  the  earl's 
manner  and  voice,  but,  convinced  in  his  own  mind  that 
the  age  was  against  Warwick,  and  that  commerce  and 
London  would  be  little  advantaged  by  the  earl's  rule,  the 
trading  spirit  prevailed  in  his  breast. 

"  Gracious  my  lord, "  he  said,  bending  his  knee  in  no 
servile  homage,  "  he  who  befriends  my  order  commands 

me." 

The  proud  noble  bit  his  lip,  and  with  a  silent  wave  of 
his  hand,  dismissed  the  foster-brothers. 

"  Thou  art  but  a  churl  at  best,  ISTick, "  said  Marma- 
duke, as  the  door  closed  on  the  young  men.  "  Many  a 
baron  would  have  sold  his  father's  hall  for  such  words 
from  the  earl's  lip." 

"  Let  barons  sell  their  free  conduct  for  fair  words.  I 
keep  myself  unshackled,  to  join  that  cause  which  best  fills 
the  market,  and  reforms  the  law.  But  tell  me,  I  pray 
thee,  sir  knight,  what  makes  Warner  and  his  daughter 
so  dear  to  your  lord  1  " 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  363 

"  What !  know  you  not  1  —  and  has  she  not  told  you  1 

—  Ah,  —  what  was  I  about  to  say  1  " 

"  Can  there  be  a  secret  between  the  earl  and  the 
scholar  1  "  asked  Alwyn,   in  wonder. 

"  If  there  be,  it  is  our  place  to  respect  it, "  returned 
the  Nevile,  adjusting  his  manteline, —  "and  now  we 
must  command  the  litter." 

In  spite  of  all  the  more  urgent  and  harassing  affairs 
that  pressed  upon  him,  the  earl  found  an  early  time  to 
attend  to  his  guests.  His  welcome  to  Sibyll  was  more 
than  courteous,  —  it  was  paternal.  As  she  approached 
him,  timidly,  and  with  a  downcast  eye,  he  advanced, 
placed  his  hand  upon  her  head, — 

"  The  Holy  Mother  ever  have  thee  in  her  charge,  child  ! 

—  This  is  a  father's  kiss,  young  mistress,"  added  the 
earl,  pressing  his  lips  to  her  forehead,  —  "  and  in  this 
kiss,  remember  that  I  pledge  to  thee  care  for  thy  for- 
tunes, honor  for  thy  name,  —  my  heart  to  do  thee  ser- 
vice, my  arm  to  shield  from  wrong  !  Brave  scholar,  thy 
lot  has  become  interwoven  with  my  own.  Prosperous  is 
now  my  destiny, —  my  destiny  be  thine!     Amen  !  " 

He  turned  then  to  Warner,  and  without  further  re- 
ference to  a  past,  which  so  galled  his  proud  spirit,  he 
made  the  scholar  explain  to  him  the  nature  of  his  labors. 
In  the  mind  of  every  man  who  has  passed  much  of  his 
life  in  successful  action,  there  is  a  certain,  if  we  may  so 
say,  untaught  mat  lies  is, — but  especially  among  those 
who  have  been  bred  to  the  art  of  war.  A  great  soldier 
is  a  great  mechanic,  a  great  mathematician,  though  he 
may  know  it  not;  and  Warwick,  therefore,  better  than 
many  a  scholar,  comprehended  the  principle  upon  which 
Adam  founded  his  experiments.  But  though  he  caught 
also  a  glimpse  of  the  vast  results  which  such  experiments 
in  themselves  were  calculated  to  effect,  his  strong  com- 


364         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

mon  sense  perceived  yet  more  clearly  that  the  time  was 
not  ripe  for  such  startling  inventions. 

"My  friend, "  he  said,  "I  comprehend  thee  passably. 
It  is  clear  to  me,  that  if  thou  canst  succeed  in  making 
the  elements  do  the  work  of  man  with  equal  precision, 
but  with  far  greater  force  and  rapidity,  thou  must  mul- 
tiply eventually,  and,  by  multiplying,  cheapen,  all  the 
products  of  industry;  that  thou  must  give  to  this 
country  the  market  of  the  world,  — and  that  thine 
would  be  the  true  alchemy  that  turneth  all  to  gold." 

"  Mighty  intellect,  —  thou  graspest  the  truth  !  "  ex- 
claimed Adam. 

"But,"  pursued  the  earl,  with  a  mixture  of  prejudice 
and  judgment,  "  grant  thee  success  to  the  full,  and  thou 
wouldst  turn  this  bold  land  of  yeomanry  and  manhood 
into  one  community  of  griping  traders  and  sickly  artisans. 
Mort  Dieuf  we  are  over-commerced  as  it  is, —  the  bow 
is  already  deserted  for  the  ell-measure.  The  town  popu- 
lations are  ever  the  most  worthless  in  war.  England  is 
begirt  with  mailed  foes .  and  if  by  one  process  she  were 
to  accumulate  treasure  and  lose  soldiers,  she  would  but 
tempt  invasion  and  emasculate  defenders.  Verily,  I 
avise  and  implore  thee  to  turn  thy  wit  and  scholarship 
to  a  manlier  occupation  !  " 

"My  life  knows  no  other  object,  —  kill  my  labor  and 
thou  destroyest  me, "  said  Adam,  in  a  voice  of  gloomy 
despair.  Alas,  it  seemed  that,  whatever  the  changes  of 
power,  no  change  could  better  the  hopes  of  science  in  an 
age  of  iron ! 

Warwick  was  moved.  "  Well, "  he  said,  after  a  pause, 
"  be  happy  in  thine  own  way.  I  will  do  my  best  at  least 
to  protect  thee.  To-morrow  resume  thy  labors;  but  this 
day,  at  least,  thou  must  feast  with  me. " 

And  at  his  banquet  that  day,  among  the  knights  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BATONS.         365 

barons,  and  the  abbots  and  the  warriors,  Adam  sat  on 
the  dais,  near  the  earl,  and  Sibyll  at  "  the  mess  "  of  the 
ladies  of  the  Duchess  of  Clarence.  And  ere  the  feast 
broke  up,  Warwick  thus  addressed  his  company :  — 

"  My  friends,  —  though  I,  and  most  of  us  reared  in  the 
lap  of  war,  have  little  other  clerkship  than  sufficed  our 
bold  fathers  before  us,  yet  in  the  free  towns  of  Italy  and 
the  Rhine,  yea,  and  in  France,  under  her  politic  king, — 
we  may  see  that  a  day  is  dawning  wherein  new  knowledge 
will  teach  many  marvels  to  our  wiser  sons.  Wherefore 
it  is  good  that  a  state  should  foster  men  who  devote 
laborious  nights  and  weary  days  to  the  advancement  of 
arts  and  letters,  for  the  glory  of  our  common  land.  A 
worthy  gentleman,  now  at  this  board,  hath  deeply  medi- 
tated contrivances  which  may  make  our  English  artisans 
excel  the  Flemish  loons,  who  now  fatten  upon  our  in- 
dustry to  the  impoverishment  of  the  realm.  And,  above 
all,  he  also  purposes  to  complete  an  invention  which  may 
render  our  ship  craft  the  most  notable  in  Europe.  Of 
this  I  say  no  more  at  the  present;  but  I  commend  our 
guest,  Master  Adam  Warner,  to  your  good  service,  and 
pray  you  especially,  worshipful  sirs  of  the  Church  now 
present,  to  shield  his  good  name  from  that  charge  which 
most  paineth  and  endangereth  honest  men.  For  ye  wot 
well  that  the  commons,  from  ignorance,  would  impute 
all  to  witchcraft  that  passeth  their  understanding.  Not," 
added  the  earl,  crossing  himself,  "  that  witchcraft  does 
not  horribly  infect  the  land,  and  hath  been  largely 
practised  by  Jacquetta  of  Bedford,  and  her  confederates, 
Bungey  and  others.  But  our  cause  needeth  no  such  aid : 
and  all  that  Master  Warner  purposes  is  in  behalf  of  the 
people,  and  in  conformity  with  holy  Church.  So  this 
waisall  to  his  health  and  house." 

This  characteristic  address  being  received  with  respect, 


366         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

though  with  less  applause  than  usually  greeted  the 
speeches  of  the  great  earl,  Warwick  added,  in  a  softer 
and  more  earnest  tone,  "And  in  the  fair  demoiselle, 
his  daughter,  I  pray  you  to  acknowledge  the  dear  friend 
of  my  heloved  lady  and  child,  Anne,  Princess  of  Wales; 
and  for  the  sake  of  her  Highness,  and  in  her  name,  I 
arrogate  to  myself  a  share  with  Master  Warner  in  this 
young  donzell's  guardianship  and  charge.  Know  ye, 
my  gallant  gentles  and  fair  squires,  that  he  who  can 
succeed  in  achieving,  either  by  leal  love  or  by  hold 
deeds,  as  best  befit  a  wooer,  the  grace  of  my  young 
ward,  shall  claim  from  my  hands  a  knight's  fee,  with 
as  much  of  my  best  land  as  a  bull's  hide  can  cover;  and 
when  Heaven  shall  grant  safe  passage  to  the  Princess 
Anne  and  her  noble  spouse,  we  will  hold  at  Smithfield 
a  tourney  in  honor  of  St.  George  and  our  ladies,  wherein, 
pardie,  I  myself  would  be  sorely  tempted  to  provoke 
my  jealous  countess,  and  break  a  lance  for  the  fame  of 
the  demoiselle  whose  fair  face  is  married  to  a  noble 
heart. " 

That  evening,  in  the  galliard,  many  an  admiring  eye 
turned  to  Sibyll,  and  many  a  young  gallant,  recalling 
the  earl's  words,  sighed  to  win  her  grace.  There  had 
been  a  time  when  such  honor  and  such  homage  would 
have,  indeed,  been  welcome;  but  now,  onk  saw  them 
not,  and  they  were  valueless.  -  All  that,  in  her  earlier 
girlhood,  Sibyll's  ambition  had  coveted,  when  musing 
on  the  brilliant  world,  seemed  now  wellnigh  fulfilled: 
her  father  protected  by  the  first  noble  of  the  land,  and 
that  not  with  the  degrading  condescension  of  the  Duchess 
of  Bedford,  but  as  Power  alone  should  protect  Genius, 
—  honored  while  it  honors;  her  gentle  birth  recognized; 
her  position  elevated;  fair  fortunes  smiling,  after  such 
rude  trials;  and  all  won  without  servility  or  abasement. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         367 

But  her  ambition  having  once  exhausted  itself  in  a 
diviner  passion,  all  excitement  seemed  poor  and  spirit- 
less compared  to  the  lonely  waiting  at  the  humble  farm 
for  the  voice  and  step  of  Hastings.  Nay,  but  for  her 
father's  sake,  she  could  almost  have  loathed  the  pleasure 
and  the  pomp,  and  the  admiration  and  the  homage,  which 
seemed  to  insult  the  reverses  of  the  wandering  exile. 

The  earl  had  designed  to  place  Sibyll  among  Isabel's 
ladies,  but  the  haughty  air  of  the  duchess  chilled  the 
poor  girl;  and,  pleading  the  excuse  that  her  father's 
health  required  her  constant  attendance,  she  prayed 
permission  to  rest  with  Warner  wherever  he  might  be 
lodged.  Adam  himself,  now  that  the  Duchess  of  Bed- 
ford and  Friar  Bungey  were  no  longer  in  the  Tower, 
entreated  permission  to  return  to  the  place  where  he 
had  worked  the  most  successfully  upon  the  beloved 
Eureka,  and,  as  the  Tower  seemed  a  safer  residence 
than  any  private  home  could  be,  from  popular  preju- 
dice and  assault,  Warwick  kindly  ordered  apartments, 
far  more  commodious  than  they  had  yet  occupied,  to 
be  appropriated  to  the  father  and  daughter.  Several 
attendants  were  assigned  to  them,  and  never  was  man 
of  letters  or  science  more  honored  now  than  the  poor 
scholar,  who,  till  then,  had  been  so  persecuted  and 
despised ! 

Who  shall  tell  Adam's  serene  delight!  Alchemy 
and  astrology  at  rest,  no  imperious  duchess,  no  hateful 
Bungey,  his  free  mind  left  to  its  congenial  labors!  And 
Sibyll,  when  they  met,  strove  to  wear  a  cheerful  brow, 
praying  him  only  never  to  speak  to  her  of  Hastings. 
The  good  old  man,  relapsing  into  his  wonted  mechanical 
existence,  hoped  she  had  forgotten  a  girl's  evanescent 
fancy. 

But  the  peculiar   distinction   showed  by  the  earl  to 


3G8         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

Warner,  confirmed  the  reports  circulated  by  Bungey, 
—  "that  he  was,  indeed,  a  fearful  nigromancer,  who 
had  much  helped  the  earl  in  his  emprise."  The  earl's 
address  to  his  guests  in  behalf  both  of  Warner  and 
Sibyll,  the  high  state  accorded  to  the  student,  reached 
even  the  sanctuary ;  for  the  fugitives  there  easily  con- 
trived to  learn  all  the  gossip  of  the  city.  Judge  of  the 
effect  the  tale  produced  upon  the  envious  Bungey, — 
judge  of  the  representations  it  enabled  him  to  make  to 
the  credulous  duchess!  It  was  clear  now  to  Jacquetta, 
as  the  sun  in  noonday,  that  Warwick  rewarded  the  evil- 
predicting  astrologer  for  much  dark  and  secret  service, 
which  Bungey,  had  she  listened  to  him,  might  have 
frustrated;  and  she  promised  the  friar  that,  if  ever 
again  she  had  the  power,  Warner  and  the  Eureka 
should     be  placed  at  his  sole  mercy  and  discretion. 

The  friar  himself,  however,  growing  very  weary  of 
the  dulness  of  the  sanctuary,  and  covetous  of  the  advan- 
tages enjoyed  by  Adam,  began  to  meditate  acquiescence 
in  the  fashion  of  the  day,  and  a  transfer  of  his  allegiance 
to  the  party  in  power.  Emboldened  by  the  clemency 
of  the  victors;  learning  that  no  rewards  for  his  own 
apprehension  had  been  offered;  hoping  that  the  stout 
earl  would  forget  or  forgive  the  old  offence  of  the  waxen 
effigies;  and  aware  of  the  comparative  security  his 
friar's  gown  and  cowl  afforded  him,  —  he  resolved  one 
day  to  venture  forth  from  his  retreat.  He  even  flattered 
himself  that  he  could  cajole  Adam  —  whom  he  really 
believed  the  possessor  of  some  high  and  weird  secrets, 
but  whom  otherwise  he  despised  as  a  very  weak  creature 
. —  into  forgiving  his  past  brutalities,  and  soliciting  the 
earl  to  take  him  into  favor. 

At  dusk,  then,  and  by  the  aid  of  one  of  the  subalterns 
of  the  Tower,  whom  he  had  formerly  made  his  friend, 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  369 

the  friar  got  admittance  into  Warner's  chamber.  Now 
it  so  chanced  that  Adam,  having  his  own  superstitions, 
had  lately  taken  it  into  his  head  that  all  the  various 
disasters  which  had  befallen  the  Eureka,  together  with 
all  the  little  blemishes  and  defects  that  yet  marred  its 
construction,  were  owing  to  the  want  of  the  diamond 
bathed  in  the  mystic  moonbeams,  which  his  German 
authority  had  long  so  emphatically  prescribed;  and 
now  that  a  monthly  stipend  far  exceeding  his  wants 
was  at  his  disposal,  and  that  it  became  him  to  do  all 
possible  honor  to  the  earl's  patronage,  he  resolved  that 
the  diamond  should  be  no  longer  absent  from  the  opera- 
tions it  was  to  influence.  He  obtained  one  of  passable 
size  and  sparkle,  exposed  it  the  due  number  of  nights  to 
the  new  moon,  and  had  already  prepared  its  place  in  the 
Eureka,  and  was  contemplating  it  with  solemn  joy, 
when  Bungey  entered. 

"Mighty  brother,"  said  the  friar,  bowing  to  the 
ground,  "be  merciful  as  thou  art  strong!  Verily  thou 
hast  proved  thyself  the  magician,  and  I  but  a  poor 
wretch  in  comparison,  —  for  lo!  thou  art  rich  and  hon- 
ored, and  I  poor  and  proscribed.  Deign  to  forgive  thine 
enemy,  and  take  him  as  thy  slave  by  right  of  conquest. 
Oh,  Cogsbones!  —  oh,  Gemini!  what  a  jewel  thou  hast 
got!" 

"  Depart!  thou  disturbest  me,"  said  Adam,  oblivious, 
in  his  absorption,  of  the  exact  reasons  for  his  repug- 
nance, but  feeling  indistinctly  that  something  very 
loathsome  and  hateful  was  at  his  elbow,  and  as  he 
spoke,  he  fitted  the  diamond  into  its  socket. 

"  What!  a  jewel, — a  diamond! — in  the  —  in  the  — 

in  the  —  mechanical!  "  faltered  the  friar,  in  profound 

astonishment,  his  mouth  watering  at  the  sight.      If  the 

Eureka   were    to   be   envied   before,    how    much   more 

vol.  ii  — 24 


370         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

enviable  now?  "If  ever  I  get  thee  again,  0  ugly 
talisman!"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "1  shall  know 
where  to  look  for  something  better  than  a  pot  to  boil 
eggs!" 

"Depart,  I  say!"  repeated  Adam,  turning  round  at 
last,  and  shuddering  as  he  now  clearly  recognized  the 
friar,  and  recalled  his  malignity.  "  Darest  thou  molest 
me  still  1  " 

The  friar  abjectly  fell  on  his  knees,  and,  after  a  long 
exordium  of  penitent  excuses,  entreated  the  scholar  to 
intercede  in  his  favor  with  the  earl. 

"  I  want  not  all  thy  honors  and  advancement,  great 
Adam,  —  I  want  only  to  serve  thee,  trim  thy  furnace, 
and  hand  thee  thy  tools,  and  work  out  my  apprentice- 
ship under  thee,  master.  As  for  the  earl,  he  will  listen 
to  thee,  I  know,  if  thou  tellest  him  that  I  had  the  trust 
of  his  foe,  the  duchess;  that  I  can  give  him  all  her 
closest  secrets;  that  I — " 

"Avaunt!  Thou  art  worse  than  I  deemed  thee, 
wretch!  Cruel  and  ignorant  I  knew  thee,  —  and  now, 
mean  and  perfidious!  1  work  with  thee!  /commend 
to  the  earl  a  living  disgrace  to  the  name  of  scholar! 
Never!  If  thou  wantest  bread  and  alms,  those  I  can 
give,  as  a  Christian  gives  to  want;  but  trust,  and  honor, 
and  learned  repute,  and  noble  toils,  those  are  not  for 
the  impostor  and  the  traitor.  There,  there,  there!" 
And  he  ran  to  a  closet,  took  out  a  handful  of  small 
coins,  thrust  them  into  the  friar's  hands,  and,  pushing 
him  to  the  door,  called  to  the  servants  to  see  his  visitor 
to  the  gates.  The  friar  turned  round  with  a  scowl. 
He  did  not  dare  to  utter  a  threat,  but  he  vowed  a  vow 
in  his  soul,  and  Avent  his  way. 

It  chanced,  some  days  after  this,  that  Adam,  in  one 
of  his  musing  rambles  about  the  precincts  of  the  Tower, 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  371 

which  (since  it  was  not  then  inhabited  as  a  palace)  was 
all  free  to  his  rare  and  desultory  wanderings,  came  by 
some  workmen  employed  in  repairing  a  bombard;  and, 
as  whatever  was  of  mechanical  art  always  woke  his 
interest,  he  paused,  and  pointed  out  to  them  a  very 
simple  improvement  which  would  necessarily  tend  to 
make  the  balls  go  farther  and  more  direct  to  their 
object.  The  principal  workman,  struck  with  his  re- 
marks, ran  to  one  of  the  officers  of  the  Tower;  the 
officer  came  to  listen  to  the  learned  man,  and  then  went 
to  the  Earl  of  Warwick  to  declare  that  Master  Warner 
had  the  most  wonderful  comprehension  of  military 
mechanism.  The  earl  sent  for  Warner,  seized  at  once 
upon  the  very  simple  truth  he  suggested  as  to  the  proper 
width  of  the  bore,  and  holding  him  in  higher  esteem 
than  he  had  ever  done  before,  placed  some  new  cannon 
he  was  constructing  under  his  superintendence.  As 
this  care  occupied  but  little  of  his  time,  Warner  was 
glad  to  show  gratitude  to  the  earl,  looking  upon  the 
destructive  engines  simply  as  mechanical  contrivances, 
and  wholly  unconscious  of  the  new  terror  he  gave  to 
his  name. 

Soon  did  the  indignant  and  conscience-stricken 
Duchess  of  Bedford  hear,  in  the  Sanctuary,  that  the 
fell  wizard  she  had  saved  from  the  clutches  of  Bungey 
was  preparing  the  most  dreadful,  infallible,  and  mur- 
derous instruments  of  war,  against  the  possible  return 
of  her  son-in-law! 

Leaving  Adam  to  his  dreams,  and  his  toils,  and  his 
horrible  reputation,  we  return  to  the  world  upon  the 
surface,  —  the  Life  of  Action. 


372         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Prosperity  of  the  Outer  Show  —  the  Cares  of  the  Inner 

Man. 

The  position  of  the  king-maker  was,  to  a  superficial 
observer,  such  as  might  gratify  to  the  utmost  the  ambi- 
tion and  the  pride  of  man.  He  had  driven  from  the 
land  one  of  the  most  gorgeous  princes  and  one  of  the 
boldest  warriors  that  ever  sat  upon  a  throne.  He  had 
changed  a  dynasty  without  a  blow.  In  the  alliances  of 
his  daughters,  whatever  chanced,  it  seemed  certain  that, 
by  one  or  the  other,  his  posterity  would  be  the  kings  of 
England. 

The  easiness  of  his  victory  appeared  to  prove  of  itself 
that  the  hearts  of  the  people  were  with  him ;  and  the 
Parliament  that  he  hastened  to  summon,  confirmed  by 
law  the  revolution  achieved  by  a  bloodless  sword.1 

Nor  was  there  aught  abroad  which  menaced  disturb- 
ance to  the  peace  at  home.  Letters  from  the  Countess 
of  Warwick  and  Lady  Anne  announced  their  triumphant 
entry  at  Paris,  where  Margaret  of  Anjou  was  received 
with  honors  never  before  rendered  but  to  a  queen  of 
France. 

A  solemn  embassy,  meanwhile,  was  preparing  to  pro- 
ceed from  Paris  to  London,  to  congratulate  Henry,  and 
establish  a  permanent  treaty  of  peace  and  commerce;2 
while  Charles  of  Burgundy  himself  (the  only  ally  left 
to  Edward)  supplicated  for  the  continuance  of  amicable 
relations  with  England,  — stating  that  they  were  formed 

1  Lingard,  Hume,  etc.  2  Rymer,  xi.  683-690. 


THE    LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  373 

with  the  country,  not  with  any  special  person  who  might 
wear  the  crown;1  and  forbade  his  subjects  by  proclama- 
tion to  join  any  enterprise  for  the  recovery  of  his  throne, 
which  Edward  might  attempt. 

The  conduct  of  Warwick,  whom  the  Parliament  had 
declared,  conjointly  with  Clarence,  protector  of  the 
realm  during  the  minority  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  was 
worthy  of  the  triumph  he  had  obtained.  He  exhibited 
now  a  greater  genius  for  government  than  he  had  yet 
displayed.  For  all  his  passions  were  nerved  to  the 
utmost,  to  consummate  his  victory,  and  sharpen  his 
faculties.  He  united  mildness  towards  the  defeated 
faction,  with  a  firmness  which  repelled  all  attempt  at 
insurrection.3 

In  contrast  to  the  splendor  that  surrounded  his  daugh- 
ter Anne,  all  accounts  spoke  of  the  humiliation  to  which 
Charles  subjected  the  exiled  king  ;  and  in  the  Sanctuary, 
amidst  homicides  and  felons,  the  wife  of  the  earl's 
defeated  foe  gave  birth  to  a  male  child,  baptized  and 
christened  (says  the  chronicler),  "  as  the  son  of  a  common 
man."  For  the  Avenger  and  his  children  were  regal 
authority  and  gorgeous  pomp, — for  the  Fugitive  and 
his  offspring  were  the  bread  of  the  exile,  or  the  refuge 
of  the  outlaw. 

But  still  the  earl's  prosperity  was  hollow,  —  the 
statue  of  brass  stood  on  limbs  of  clay.  The  position 
of  a  man  with  the  name  of  subject,  but  the  authority  of 
king,  was  an  unpopular  anomaly  in  England.  In  the 
principal  trading  towns  had  been  long  growing  up  that 
animosity  towards  the  aristocracy,  of  which  Henry  VII. 
availed  himself  to  raise  a  despotism  (and  which, 
even  in  our  day,  causes  the  main  disputes  of  faction); 
but  the  recent  revolution  was  one  in  which  the  towns 

1    HCME,  COMINES.  2   HABINGTON. 


374         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

had  had  no  share.  It  was  a  revolution  made  by  the 
representative  of  the  barons  and  his  followers.  It  was 
connected  with  no  advancement  of  the  middle  class,  — 
it  seemed  to  the  men  of  commerce  but  the  violence  of 
a  turbulent  and  disappointed  nobility.  The  very  name 
given  to  Warwick's  supporters  was  unpopular  in  the 
towns.  They  were  not  called  the  Lancastrians,  or  the 
friends  of  King  Henry,  —  they  were  styled  then,  and 
still  are  so,  by  the  old  Chronicler,  "  The  Lords'  Parti/." 
Most  of  whatever  was  still  feudal,  —  the  haughtiest  of 
the  magnates,  the  rudest  of  the  yeomanry,  the  most 
warlike  of  the  knights,  —  gave  to  Warwick  the  sanction 
of  their  allegiance;  and  this  sanction  was  displeasing 
to  the  intelligence  of  the  towns. 

Classes  in  all  times  have  a  keen  instinct  of  their  own 
class  interests.  The  revolution  which  the  earl  had 
effected  was  the  triumph  of  aristocracy;  its  natural 
results  would  tend  to  strengthen  certainly  the  moral, 
and  probably  the  constitutional  power  already  possessed 
by  that  martial  order.  The  new  Parliament  was  their 
creature;  Henry  VI.  was  a  cipher;  his  son  a  boy  with 
unknown  character,  and,  according  to  vulgar  scandal,  of 
doubtful  legitimacy,  seemingly  bound  hand  and  foot 
in  the  trammels  of  the  archbaron's  mighty  house,  —  the 
earl  himself  had  never  scrupled  to  evince  a  distaste  to 
the  change  in  society  which  was  slowly  converting  an 
agricultural  into  a  trading  population. 

It  may  be  observed,  too,  that  a  middle  class  as  rarely 
unites  itself  with  the  idols  of  the  populace  as  with  the 
chiefs  of  a  seignorie.  The  brute  attachment  of  the 
peasants  and  the  mobs  to  the  gorgeous  and  lavish  earl, 
seemed  to  the  burgesses  the  sign  of  a  barbaric  clanship, 
opposed  to  that  advance  in  civilization  towards  which 
they  half  unconsciously  struggled. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         375 

And  here  we  must  rapidly  glance  at  what,  as  far  as 
a  statesman  may  foresee,  would  have  been  the  prohable 
result  of  Warwick's  ascendancy,  if  durable  and  effectual. 
If  attached,  by  prejudice  and  birth,  to  the  aristocracy, 
he  was  yet,  by  reputation  and  habit,  attached  also  to  the 
popular  party:  that  party  more  popular  than  the  middle 
class, — the  majority,  the  masses:  his  whole  life  had 
been  one  struggle  against  despotism  in  the  crown. 
Though  far  from  entertaining  such  schemes  as  in  simi- 
lar circumstances  might  have  occurred  to  the  deep 
sagacity  of  an  Italian  patrician  for  the  interest  of  his 
order,  no  doubt  his  policy  would  have  tended  to  this 
one  aim,  —  the  limitation  of  the  monarchy  by  the  strength 
of  an  aristocracy  endeared  to  the  agricultural  popula- 
tion, owing  to  that  population  its  own  powers  of  defence, 
with  the  wants  and  grievances  of  that  population  thor- 
oughly familiar,  and  willing  to  satisfy  the  one  and 
redress  the  other:  in  short,  the  great  baron  would  have 
secured  and  promoted  liberty  according  to  the  notions 
of  a  seigneur  and  a  Norman,  by  making  the  king  but 
the  first  nobleman  of  the.  realm.  Had  the  policy  lasted 
long  enough  to  succeed,  the  subsequent  despotism,  which 
changed  a  limited  into  an  absolute  monarchy  under  the 
Tudors,  would  have  been  prevented,  with  all  the  san- 
guinary reaction,  in  which  the  Stuarts  were  the  sufferers. 
The  earl's  family,  and  his  own  "  large,  father-like 
heart,"  had  ever  been  opposed  to  religious  persecution; 
and  timely  toleration  to  the  Lollards  might  have  pre- 
vented the  long-delayed  revenge  of  their  posterity, — 
the  Puritans.  Gradually,  perhaps,  might  the  system 
he  represented  (of  the  whole  consequences  of  which  he 
was  unconscious)  have  changed  monarchic  into  aristo- 
cratic government,  resting,  however,  upon  broad  and 
popular  institutions;   but  no  doubt,  also,  the    middle, 


376         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

or  rather  the  commercial  class,  with  all  the  blessings 
that  attend  their  power,  would  have  risen  much  more 
slowly  than  when  made,  as  they  were  already,  partially 
under  Edward  IV. ,  and  more  systematically  under 
Henry  VII.,  the  instrument  for  destroying  feudal  aris- 
tocracy, and  thereby  establishing  for  a  long  and  fearful 
interval  the  arbitrary  rule  of  the  single  tyrant.  War- 
wick's dislike  to  the  commercial  biasses  of  Edward  was, 
in  fact,  not  a  patrician  prejudice  alone.  It  required  no 
great  sagacity  to  perceive  that  Edward  had  designed  to 
raise  up  a  class  that,  though  powerful  when  employed 
against  the  barons,  would  long  be  impotent  against  the 
encroachments  of  the  crown ;  and  the  earl  viewed  that 
class  not  only  as  foes  to  his  own  order,  but  as  tools  for 
the  destruction  of  the  ancient  liberties. 

Without  presuming  to  decide  which  policy,  upon  the 
whole,  would  have  been  the  happier  for  England, — the 
one  that  based  a  despotism  on  the  middle  class,  or 
the  one  that  founded  an  aristocracy  upon  popular  affec- 
tion, —  it  was  clear  to  the  more  enlightened  burgesses 
of  the  great  towns  that  between  Edward  of  York  and 
the  Earl  of  Warwick  a  vast  principle  was  at  stake,  and 
the  commercial  king  seemed  to  them  a  more  natural  ally 
than  the  feudal  baron;  and  equally  clear  is  it  to  us  now, 
that  the  true  spirit  of  the  age  fought  for  the  false 
Edward,  and  against  the  honest  earl. 

Warwick  did  not,  however,  apprehend  any  serious 
results  from  the  passive  distaste  of  the  trading  towns. 
His  martial  spirit  led  him  to  despise  the  least  martial 
part  of  the  population.  He  knew  that  the  towns  would 
not  rise  in  arms,  so  long  as  their  charters  were  respected; 
and  that  slow,  undermining  hostility  which  exists  only 
in  opinion,  his  intellect,  so  vigorous  in  immediate  dan- 
gers, was  not  far-sighted  enough  to  comprehend. 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  377 

More  direct  cause  for  apprehension  would  there  have 
been  to  a  suspicious  mind  in  the  demeanor  of  the  earl's 
colleague  in  the  Protectorate,  —  the  Duke  of  Clarence. 
It  was  obviously  Warwick's  policy  to  satisfy  this  weak 
but  ambitious  person.  The  duke  was,  as  before  agreed, 
declared  heir  to  the  vast  possessions  of  the  house  of 
York.  He  was  invested  with  the  Lieutenancy  of  Ire- 
land, but  delayed  his  departure  to  his  government  till 
the  arrival  of  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  personal 
honors  accorded  him  in  the  meanwhile  were  those  due 
to  a  sovereign;  but  still  the  duke's  brow  was  moody, 
though,  if  the  earl  noticed  it,  Clarence  rallied  into 
seeming  cheerfulness,  and  reiterated  pledges  of  faith 
and  friendship. 

The  manner  of  Isabel  to  her  father  was  varying  and 
uncertain:  at  one  time  hard  and  cold;  at  another,  as  if 
in  the  reaction  of  secret  remorse,  she  would  throw  her- 
self into  his  arms,  and  pray  him,  weepingly,  to  forgive 
her  wayward  humors.  But  the  curse  of  the  earl's  posi- 
tion was  that  which  he  had  foreseen  before  quitting 
Amboise,  and  which,  more  or  less,  attends  upon  those 
who,  from  whatever  cause,  suddenly  desert  the  party 
with  which  all  their  associations,  whether  of  fame  or 
friendship,  have  been  interwoven.  His  vengeance 
against  one  had  comprehended  many  still  dear  to  him. 
He  was  not  only  separated  from  his  old  companions  in 
arms,  but  he  had  driven  their  most  eminent  into  exile. 
He  stood  alone  amongst  men  whom  the  habits  of  an 
active  life  had  indissolubly  connected  in  his  mind  with 
recollections  of  wrath  and  wrong.  Amidst  that  princely 
company  which  begirt  him,  he  hailed  no  familiar  face. 
Even  many  of  those  who  most  detested  Edward  (or 
rather  the  Woodvilles),  recoiled  from  so  startling  a 
desertion  to  the  Lancastrian  foe.     It  was  a  heavy  blow 


378         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS. 

to  a  heart  already  bruised  and  sore,  when  the  fiery  Raoul 
de  Fulke,  who  bad  so  idolized  Warwick,  that,  despite 
his  own  high  lineage,  he  had  worn  his  badge  upon  his 
breast,  sought  him  at  the  dead  of  night,  and  thus  said,  — 
"  Lord  of  Salisbury  and  Warwick,  I  once  offered  to 
serve  thee  as  a  vassal,  if  thou  wouldst  wrestle  with  lewd 
Edward  for  the  crown  which  only  a  manty  brow  should 
wear;  and  hadst  thou  now  returned,  as  Henry  of  Lan- 
caster returned  of  old,  to  gripe  the  sceptre  of  the 
Norman  with  a  conqueror's  hand,  I  had  been  the  first 
to  cry  'Long  live  King  Richard,  —  namesake  and 
emulator  of  Coeur  de  Lion!'  But  to  place  upon  the 
tli rone  yon  monk-puppet,  and  to  call  on  brave  hearts  to 
worship  a  patterer  of  aves  and  a  counter  of  beads;  to  fix 
the  succession  of  England  in  the  adulterous  offspring  of 
Margaret,1  the  butcher-harlot;  to  give  the  power  of  the 
realm  to  the  men  against  whom  thou  thyself  hast  often 
led  me  to  strive  with  lance  and  battle-axe,  —  is  to  open 
a  path  which  leads  but  to  dishonor,  and  thither  Raoul 
de  Fulke  follows  not  even  the  steps  of  the  Lord  of 
Warwick.  Interrupt  me  not,  —  speak  not!  As  thou 
to  Edward,  so  I  now  to  thee,  forswear  allegiance,  and 
I  bid  thee  farewell  forever!" 

1  One  of  the  greatest  obstacles  to  the  cause  of  the  Red  Rose, 
was  the  popular  belief  that  the  young  priuce  was  uot  Henry's  son. 
Had  that  belief  not  been  widely  spread  and  firmly  maintained,  the 
lords  who  arbitrated  between  Henry  VI.  and  Richard  Duke  of 
York,  in  October,  1460,  could  scarcely  have  come  to  the  resolution 
to  set  aside  the  Prince  of  Wales  altogether,  to  accord  Henry  the 
crown  for  his  life,  and  declare  the  Duke  of  York  his  heir.  Ten 
years  previously  (in  November,  1450),  before  the  young  prince 
was  born  or  thought  of,  aud  the  proposition  was  really  just  and 
reasonable,  it  was  moved  in  the  House  of  Commons  to  declare 
Ftichard  Duke  of  York  next  heir  to  Henry,  which,  at  least,  by 
birthright,  he  certainly  was  ;  but  the  motion  met  with  little  favor, 
and  the  mover  was  sent  to  the  Tower. 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  379 

"I  pardon  thee,"  answered  Warwick;  "and  if  ever 
thou  art  wronged  as  I  have  been,  thy  heart  will  avenge 
me,  — go!  " 

But  when  this  haughty  visitor  was  gone,  the  earl 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  groaned  aloud.  A 
defection  perhaps  even  more  severely  felt  came  next. 
Katherine  de  Bonville  had  been  the  earl's  favorite 
sister:  he  wrote  to  her  at  the  convent  to  which  she  had 
retired,  praying  her  affectionately  to  come  to  London, 
"and  cheer  his  vexed  spirit,  and  learn  the  true  cause, 
not  to  be  told  by  letter,  which  had  moved  him  to  things 
once  farthest  from  his  thought."  The  messenger  came 
back,  —  the  letter  unopened;  for  Katherine  had  left  the 
convent,  and  fled  into  Burgundy,  distrustful,  as  it  seemed 
to  Warwick,  of  her  own  brother.  The  nature  of  this 
lion-hearted  man  was,  as  we  have  seen,  singularly  kindly, 
frank,  and  affectionate;  and  now  in  the  most  critical,  the 
most  anxious,  the  most  tortured  period  of  his  life,  con- 
fidence and  affection  were  forbidden  to  him.  What  had 
he  not  given  for  one  hour  of  the  soothing  company  of 
his  wife,  the  only  being  in  the  world  to  whom  his  pride 
could  have  communicated  the  grief  of  his  heart  or  the 
doubts  of  his  conscience !  Alas  !  never  on  earth  should 
he  hear  that  soft  voice  again!  Anne  too,  the  gentle, 
childlike  Anne,  was  afar;  but  she  was  happy,  —  a  basker 
in  the  brief  sunshine,  and  blind  to  the  darkening  clouds. 
His  elder  child,  with  her  changeful  moods,  added  but 
to  his  disquiet  and  unhappiness.  Next  to  Edward, 
Warwick,  of  all  the  House  of  York,  had  loved  Clar- 
ence, though  a  closer  and  more  domestic  intimacy  had 
weakened  the  affection,  by  lessening  the  esteem.  But 
looking  farther  into  the  future,  he  now  saw  in  this 
alliance  the  seeds  of  many  a  rankling  sorrow.  The 
nearer   Anne  and  her  spouse  to  power  and  fame,  the 


380         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

more  bitter  the  jealousy  of  Clarence  and  his  wife. 
Thus,  in  the  very  connections  which  seemed  most  to 
strengthen  his  house,  lay  all  which  must  destroy  the 
hallowed  unity  and  peace  of  family  and  home. 

The  Archbishop  of  York  had  prudently  taken  no 
part  whatever  in  the  measures  that  had  changed  the 
dynasty,  —  he  came  now  to  reap  the  fruits :  did  homage 
to  Henry  VI.,  received  the  Chancellor's  seals,  and 
recommenced  intrigues  for  the  Cardinal's  hat.  But 
between  the  bold  warrior  and  the  wily  priest  there  could 
be  but  little  of  the  endearment  of  brotherly  confidence 
and  love.  With  Montagu  alone  could  the  earl  confer 
in  cordiality  and  unreserve;  and  their  similar  position, 
and  certain  points  of  agreement  in  their  characters, 
now  more  clearly  brought  out  and  manifest,  served  to 
make  their  friendship  for  each  other  firmer  and  more 
tender,  in  the  estrangement  of  all  other  ties,  than  ever 
it  had  been  before.  But  the  marquis  was  soon  com- 
pelled to  depart  from  London,  to  his  post  as  warden 
of  the  northern  marches;  for  Warwick  had  not  the 
rash  presumption  of  Edward,  and  neglected  no  pre- 
caution against  the  return  of  the  dethroned  king. 

So  there,  alone,  in  pomp  and  in  power,  vengeance 
consummated,  ambition  gratified,  but  love  denied,  — 
with  an  aching  heart  and  a  fearless  front,  amidst  old 
foes  made  prosperous,  and  old  friends  alienated  and 
ruined,  —  stood  the  king-maker!  and  day  by  day,  the 
untimely  streaks  of  gray  showed  more  and  more,  amidst 
the  raven  curls  of  the  strong  man. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS.         381 


CHAPTEE  III. 

Farther  Views  into  the  Heart  of  Man,  and  the  Conditions  of 

Power. 

But  woe  to  any  man  who  is  called  to  power  with  exag- 
gerated expectations  of  his  ability  to  do  good!  Woe 
to  the  man  whom  the  populace  have  esteemed  a  popu- 
lar champion,  and  who  is  suddenly  made  the  guardian 
of  law!  The  Commons  of  England  had  not  bewailed 
the  exile  of  the  good  earl  simply  for  love  of  his  groan- 
ing table,  and  admiration  of  his  huge  battle-axe,  —  it 
was  not  merely  either  in  pity  or  from  fame  that  his 
"  name  had  sounded  in  every  song, "  and  that,  to  use 
the  strong  expression  of  the  chronicler,  the  people 
"judged  that  the  sun  was  clearly  taken  from  the 
world  when  he  was  absent." 

They  knew  him  as  one  who  had  ever  sought  to 
correct  the  abuses  of  power,  —  to  repair  the  wrongs  of 
the  poor;  who,  even  in  war,  had  forbidden  his  knights 
to  slay  the  common  men.  He  was  regarded,  therefore, 
as  a  reformer;  and  wonderful,  indeed,  were  the  things 
proportioned  to  his  fame  and  his  popularity,  which  he 
was  expected  to  accomplish;  and  his  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  the  English  character,  and  experience  of  every 
class, —  especially  the  lowest  as  the  highest, —  conjoined 
with  the  vigor  of  his  robust  understanding,  unquestion- 
ably enabled  him,  from  the  very  first,  to  put  a  stop  to 
the  lawless  violences  which  had  disgraced  the  rule  of 
Edward.     The  infamous  spoliations  of  the  royal  purvey- 


382         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

ors  ceased;  the  robber-like  excesses  of  the  ruder  barons 
and  gentry  were  severely  punished,  —  the  country  felt 
that  a  strong  hand  held  the  reins  of  power.  But  what 
is  justice,  when  men  ask  miracles?  The  peasant  and 
mechanic  were  astonished  that  wages  were  not  doubled; 
that  bread  was  not  to  be  had  for  asking;  that  the 
disparities  of  life  remained  the  same,  the  rich  still 
rich,  the  poor  still  poor.  In  the  first  days  of  the 
revolution,  Sir  Geoffrey  Gates,  the  freebooter,  little 
comprehending  the  earl's  merciful  policy,  and  anxious 
naturally  to  turn  a  victory  into  its  accustomed  fruit 
of  rapine  and  pillage,  placed  himself  at  the  head  of 
an  armed  mob,  marched  from  Kent  to  the  suburbs 
of  London,  and,  joined  by  some  of  the  miscreants 
from  the  different  Sanctuaries,  burned  and  pillaged, 
ravished  and  slew.  The  earl  quelled  this  insurrection 
with  spirit  and  ease;1  and  great  was  the  praise  he 
received  thereby.  But  all-pervading  is  the  sympathy 
the  poor  feel  for  the  poor!  And  when  even  the  refuse 
of  the  populace  once  felt  the  sword  of  Warwick,  some 
portion  of  the  popular  enthusiasm  must  have  silently 
deserted  him. 

Robert  Hilyard,  who  had  borne  so  large  a  share  in 
the  restoration  of  the  Lancastrians,  now  fixed  his  home 
in  the  metropolis;  and,  anxious  as  ever  to  turn  the 
current  to  the  popular  profit,  he  saw,  with  rage  and 
disappointment,  that  as  yet  no  party  but  the  nobles 
had  really  triumphed.  He  had  longed  to  achieve  a 
revolution  that  might  be  called  the  People's;  and  he 
had  abetted  one  that  was  called  "  the  Lords'  doing. " 
The  affection  he  had  felt  for  Warwick  arose  principally 
from  his  regarding  him  as  an  instrument  to  prepare 
society  for  the  more  democratic  changes  he  panted  to 
1  Hall,  Habington. 


THE   LAST  OF   THE   BARONS.  383 

effect;  and  lo!  he  himself  had  heen  the  instrument 
to  strengthen  the  aristocracy.  Society  resettled  after 
the  storm,  the  noble  retained  his  armies;  the  dema- 
gogue had  lost  his  mobs!  Although  through  England 
were  scattered  the  principles  which  were  ultimately 
to  destroy  feudalism, —  to  humble  the  fierce  barons  into 
silken  lords;  to  reform  the  Church;  to  ripen  into  a 
commonwealth,  through  the  representative  system,  — 
the  principles  were  but  in  the  germ ;  and  when  Hilyard 
mingled  with  the  traders  or  the  artisans  of  London,  and 
sought  to  form  a  party  which  might  comprehend  some- 
thing of  steady  policy  and  definite  object,  he  found 
himself  regarded  as  a  visionary  fanatic  by  some,  as  a 
dangerous  dare-devil  by  the  rest.  Strange  to  say, 
Warwick  was  the  only  man  who  listened  to  him  with 
attention ;  the  man  behind  the  age,  and  the  man  before 
the  age,  ever  have  some  inch  of  ground  in  common : 
both  desired  to  increase  liberty:  both  honestly  and 
ardently  loved  the  masses;  but  each  in  the  spirit  of 
his  order:  Warwick  defended  freedom  as  against  the 
throne,  Hilyard  as  against  the  barons.  Still,  notwith- 
standing their  differences,  each  was  so  convinced  of  the 
integrity  of  the  other,  that  it  wanted  only  a  foe  in  the 
field  to  unite  them  as  before.  The  natural  ally  of 
the  popular  baron  was  the  leader  of  the  populace. 

Some  minor,  but  still  serious  griefs  added  to  the 
embarrassment  of  the  earl's  position.  Margaret's  jeal- 
ousy had  bound  him  to  defer  all  rewards  to  lords  and 
others,  and  encumbered  Avith  a  provisional  council  all 
great  nets  of  government,  all  grants  of  offices,  lands,  or 
benefits.1  And  who  knows  not  the  expectations  of  men 
after  a  successful  revolution!  The  royal  exchequer 
was  so    empty  that   even   the    ordinary   household    was 

1  Sharon  Turner. 


334         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

suspended ; *  and,  as  ready  money  was  then  prodigiously 
scarce,  the  mighty  revenues  of  Warwick  barely  sufficed 
to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  expedition,  which,  at  his 
own  cost,  had  restored  the  Lancastrian  line.  Hard 
position,  both  to  generosity  and  to  prudence,  to  put  off 
and  apologize  to  just  claims  and  valiant  service! 

With  intense,  wearying,  tortured  anxiety,  did  the 
earl  await  the  coming  of  Margaret  and  her  son.  The 
conditions  imposed  on  him  in  their  absence  crippled 
all  his  resources.  Several  even  of  the  Lancastrian 
nobles  held  aloof,  while  they  saw  no  authority  but 
Warwick's.  Above  all,  he  relied  upon  the  effect  that 
the  young  Prince  of  Wales's  presence,  his  beauty,  his 
graciousness,  his  frank  spirit,  —  mild  as  his  father's, 
bold  as  his  grandsire's,  —  would  create  upon  all  that 
inert  and  neutral  mass  of  the  public,  the  affection  of 
which,  once  gained,  makes  the  solid  strength  of  a 
government.  The  very  appearance  of  that  prince 
would  at  once  dispel  the  slander  on  his  birth.  His 
resemblance  to  his  heroic  grandfather  would  suffice  to 
win  him  all  the  hearts,  by  which,  in  absence,  he  was 
regarded  as  a  stranger,  a  dubious  alien.  How  often  did 
the  earl  groan  forth,  "  If  the  prince  were  but  here,  all 
were  won !  "  Henry  was  worse  than  a  cipher,  —  he  was 
an  eternal  embarrassment.  His  good  intentions,  his 
scrupulous  piety,  made  him  ever  ready  to  interfere. 
The  Church  had  got  hold  of  him  already,  and  prompted 
him  to  issue  proclamations  against  the  disguised  Lollards, 
which  would  have  lost  him,  at  one  stroke,  half  his 
subjects,  This  Warwick  prevented,  to  the  great  dis- 
content of  the  honest  prince.  The  moment  required 
all  the  prestige  that  an  imposing  presence  and  a  splendid 

1  See  Ellis's  "  Original  Letters,"  from  Harleian  MSS.,  second 
series,  vol.  i.,  letter  42. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         385 

court  could  bestow.  And  Henry,  glad  of  the  poverty 
of  his  exchequer,  deemed  it  a  sin  to  make  a  parade  of 
earthly  glory.  "  Heaven  will  punish  me  again, "  said  he 
meekly,  "  if,  just  delivered  from  a  dungeon,  I  gild  my 
unworthy  self  with  all  the  vanities  of  perishable  power. " 
There  was  not  a  department  which  the  chill  of  tins 
poor  king's  virtue  did  not  somewhat  benumb.  The 
gay  youths,  who  had  revelled  in  the  alluring  court  of 
Edward  IV.,  heard,  with  disdainful  mockery,  the  grave 
lectures  of  Henry  on  the  length  of  their  lovelocks  and 
the  beakers  of  their  shoes.  The  brave  warriors  pre- 
sented to  him  for  praise  were  entertained  with  homilies 
on  the  guilt  of  war.  Even  poor  Adam  was  molested  and 
invaded  by  Henry's  pious  apprehensions  that  he  was 
seeking,  by  vain  knowledge,  to  be  superior  to  the  will  of 
Providence. 

Yet,  albeit  perpetually  irritating  and  chafing  the  impet- 
uous spirit  of  the  earl,  the  earl,  strange  to  say,  loved  the 
king  more  and  more.  This  perfect  innocence,  this 
absence  from  guile  and  self-seeking,  in  the  midst  of  an 
age  never  excelled  for  fraud,  falsehood,  and  selfish  simu- 
lation, moved  Warwick's  admiration  as  well  as  pity. 
Whatever  contrasted  Edward  IV.  had  a  charm  for  him. 
He  schooled  his  hot  temper,  and  softened  his  deep  voice, 
in  that  holy  presence ;  and  the  intimate  persuasion  of  the 
hollowness  of  all  worldly  greatness  itself  had  forced  upon 
the  earl's  mind,  made  something  congenial  between  the 
meek  saint  and  the  fiery  warrior.  Eor  the  hundredth  time 
groaned  Warwick,  as  he  quitted  Henry's  presence,  — 

"Would  that  my  gallant  son-in-law  were  come!  his 
spirit  will  soon  learn  how  to  govern,  then  Warwick  may 
be  needed  no  more !  I  am  weary  —  sore  weary  of  the 
task  of  ruling  men !  " 

"  Holy  St.  Thomas !  "  bluntly  exclaimed  Marmaduke, 

VOL.  II.  —  25 


386  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

to  whom  these  sad  words  were  said,  — "  whenever  you 
visit  the  king,  you  come  hack  —  pardon  me,  my  lord  — 
half  unmanned.     He  would  make  a  monk  of  you !  " 

"  Ah !  "  said  Warwick,  thoughtfully,  —  "  there  have 
been  greater  marvels  than  that.  Our  boldest  fathers 
often  died  the  meekest  shavelings.  An  I  had  ruled  this 
realm  as  long  as  Henry,  —  nay,  an  this  same  life  I  lead 
now  were  to  continue  two  years,  with  its  broil  and  fever, 
—  I  could  well  conceive  the  sweetness  of  the  cloister  and 
repose.  How  sets  the  wind  1  Against  them  still !  — 
against  them  still !     I  cannot  bear  this  suspense !  " 

The  winds  had  ever  seemed  malignant  to  Margaret  of 
Anjou,  but  never  more  than  now.  So  long  a  continu- 
ance of  stormy  and  adverse  weather  was  never  known  in 
the  memory  of  man ;  and  we  believe  that  it  has  scarcely 
its  parallel  in  history. 

The  earl's  promise  to  restore  King  Henry  was  fulfilled 
in  October.  From  November  to  the  following  April, 
Margaret,  with  the  young  and  royal  pair,  and  the  Coun- 
tess of  Warwick,  lay  at  the  sea-side,  waiting  for  a  wind.1 
Thrice,  in  defiance  of  all  warnings  from  the  mariners  of 
Harfleur,  did  she  put  to  sea,  and  thrice  was  she  driven 
back  on  the  coast  of  Normandy,  her  ships  much  damaged. 
Her  friends  protested  that  this  malice  of  the  elements 
was  caused  by  sorcery  ,2  —  a  belief  which  gained  ground 
in  England,  exhilarated  the  Duchess  of  Bedford,  and 
gave  new  fame  to  Bungey,  who  arrogated  all  the  merit, 
and  whose  weather  wisdom,  indeed,  had  here  borne  out 
his  predictions.  Many  besought  Margaret  not  to  tempt 
Providence,  nor  to  trust  the  sea;  but  the  queen  was  firm 
to  her  purpose,  and  her  son  laughed  at  omens,  —  yet  still 
the  vessels  could  only  leave  the  harbor  to  be  driven  back 
upon  the  land. 

1  Fabyan,  502.  2  Hall.     "  Warkworth  Chronicle." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAROXS.         387 

Day  after  day,  the  first  question  of  Warwick,  when 
the  sun  rose,  was,  "  How  sets  the  wind  ?  "  Night  after 
night,  ere  he  retired  to  rest, —  "  Til  sets  the  wind !  "  sighed 
the  earl.  The  gales  that  forbade  the  coming  of  the 
royal  party,  sped  to  the  unwilling  lingerers  courier  after 
courier, —  envoy  after  envoy;  and  at  length  Warwick, 
unable  to  bear  the  sickening  suspense  at  distance,  went 
himself  to  Dover,1  and  from  its  white  cliffs  looked,  hour 
by  hour,  for  the  sails  which  were  to  bear  "  Lancaster 
and  its  fortunes."  The  actual  watch  grew  more  intol- 
erable than  the  distant  expectation,  and  the  earl  sorrow- 
fully departed  to  his  castle  of  Warwick,  at  which  Isabel 
and  Clarence  then  were.     Alas!  where  the  old  smile  of 

home? 

i  Hall. 


388         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Return  of  Edward  of  York. 

And  the  winds  still  blew,  and  storm  was  on  the  tide, 
and  Margaret  came  not;  when,  in  the  gusty  month  of 
March,  the  fishermen  of  the  Humber  beheld  a  single 
ship,  without  flag  or  pennon,  and  sorely  stripped  and 
rivelled  by  adverse  blasts,  gallantly  struggling  towards 
the  shore.  The  vessel  was  not  of  English  build,  and 
resembled,  in  its  bulk  and  fashion,  those  employed  by 
the  Easterlings  in  their  trade, —  half  merchantman,  half 
war-ship. 

The  villagers  of  Ravenspur,  —  the  creek  of  which,  the 
vessel  now  rapidly  made  to,  —  imagining  that  it  was  some 
trading  craft  in  distress,  grouped  round  the  banks,  and 
some  put  out  their  boats.  But  the  vessel  held  on  its 
way,  and,  as  the  water  was  swelled  by  the  tide,  and 
unusually  deep,  silently  cast  anchor  close  ashore,  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  crowd. 

The  first  who  leaped  on  land  was  a  knight  of  lofty 
stature,  and  in  complete  armor,  richly  inlaid  with  gold 
arabesques.  To  him  succeeded  another,  also  in  mail, 
and,  though  well  built  and  fair  proportioned,  of  less  im- 
posing presence.  And  then,  one  by  one,  the  womb  of 
the  dark  ship  gave  forth  a  number  of  armed  soldiers, 
infinitely  larger  than  it  could  have  been  supposed  to 
contain,  till  the  knight  who  first  landed  stood  the  centre 
of  a  group  of  five  hundred  men.  Then  were  lowered 
from  the  vessel,  barbed  and  caparisoned,  some  five  score 
horses;  and,  finally,  the  sailors   and  rowers,  armed  but 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         389 

with  steel  caps  and  short  swords,  came  on  shore,  till  not 
a  man  was  left  on  board. 

"  Now  praise, "  said  the  chief  knight,  "  to  God  and 
St.  George,  that  we  have  escaped  the  water!  and  not 
with  invisible  winds,  but  with  bodily  foes  must  our  war 
be  waged." 

"Beau  sire,"  cried  one  knight  who  had  debarked 
immediately  after  the  speaker,  and  who  seemed,  from 
his  bearing  and  equipment,  of  higher  rank  than  those 
that  followed, —  "beau  sire,  this  is  a  slight  army  to 
reconquer  a  king's  realm  !  Pray  Heaven,  that  our  bold 
companions  have  also  escaped  the  deep !  " 

"  Why  verily,  we  are  not  eno',  at  the  best,  to  spare 
one  man, "  said  the  chief  knight,  gayly,  "  but,  lo !  we  are 
not  without  welcomers."  And  he  pointed  to  the  crowd 
of  villagers  who  now  slowly  neared  the  warlike  group, 
but  halting  at  a  little  distance,  continued  to  gaze  at  them 
in  some  anxiety  and  alarm. 

"  Ho  there !  good  fellows !  "  cried  the  leader,  striding 
towards  the  throng,  —  "what  name  give  you  to  this 
village  J  " 

"  Ravenspur,  please  your  worship, "  answered  one  of 
the  peasants. 

"  Eavenspur,  —  hear  you  that,  lords  and  friends  1  Ac- 
cept the  omen !  On  this  spot  landed,  from  exile,  Henry 
of  Bolingbroke,  known  afterwards  in  our  annals  as  King 
Henry  IV.!  Bare  is  the  soil  of  corn  and  of  trees, —  it 
disdains  meaner  fruit;  it  grows  kings!  Hark  !  "  —  The 
sound  of  a  bugle  was  heard  at  a  little  distance,  and  in 
a  few  moments,  a  troop  of  about  a  hundred  men  were 
seen  rising  above  an  undulation  in  the  ground,  and  as 
the  two  bands  recognized  each  other,  a  shout  of  joy  was 
given  and  returned. 

As   this   new  reinforcement  advanced,   the  peasantry 


390         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

and  fishermen,  attracted  by  curiosity  and  encouraged  by 
the  peaceable  demeanor  of  the  debarkers,  drew  nearer, 
and  mingled  with  the  first  comers. 

"  What  manner  of  men  be  ye,  and  what  want  ye  ?  " 
asked  one  of  the  bystanders,  who  seemed  of  better  nur- 
turing than  the  rest,  and  who,  indeed,  was  a  small 
franklin. 

No  answer  was  returned  by  those  he  more  immediately 
addressed,  but  the  chief  knight  heard  the  question,  and 
suddenly  unbuckling  his  helmet,  and  giving  it  to  one  of 
those  beside  him,  be  turned  to  the  crowd  a  countenance 
of  singular  beauty,  at  once  animated  and  majestic,  and 
said,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  We  are  Englishmen,  like  you, 
and  we  come  here  to  claim  our  rights.  Ye  seem  tall 
fellows  and  honest.  Standard-bearer,  unfurl  our  flag  !  " 
And,  as  the  ensign  suddenly  displayed  the  device  of  a 
sun,  in  a  field  azure,  the  chief  continued,  "  March  under 
this  banner,  and  for  every  day  ye  serve,  ye  shall  have  a 
month's  hire." 

"  Marry  !  "  quoth  the  franklin,  with  a  suspicious, 
sinister  look,  "  these  be  big  words.  And  who  are  you, 
sir  knight,  who  Avould  levy  men  in  King  Henry's 
kingdom  ?  " 

"  Your  knees,  fellows !  "  cried  the  second  knight. 
"  Behold  your  true  liege  and  suzerain,  Edward  IV. ! 
Long  live  King  Edward  !  " 

The  soldiers  caught  up  the  cry,  and  it  was  re-echoed 
lustily  by  the  smaller  detachment  that  now  reached  the 
spot;  but  no  answer  came  from  the  crowd.  They  looked 
at  each  other  in  dismay,  and  retreated  rapidly  from  their 
place  amongst  the  troops.  In  fact,  the  whole  of  the 
neighboring  district  was  devoted  to  Warwick,  and  many 
of  the  peasantry  about  had  joined  the  former  rising  under 
Sir   John   Coniers.      The  franklin   alone  retreated  not 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         391 

with  the  rest;  he  was  a  bluff,  plain,  bold  fellow,  with 
good.  English  blood  in  his  veins.  And  when  the  shout 
ceased,  he  said,  shortly,  "We,  hereabouts,  know  no  king 
but  King  Henry.  We  fear  you  would  impose  upon  us. 
We  cannot  believe  that  a  great  lord  like  him  you  call 
Edward  IV.  would  land,  with  a  handful  of  men,  to 
encounter  the  armies  of  Lord  Warwick.  We  forewarn 
you  to  get  into  your  ship,  and  go  back  as  fast  as  ye  came, 
for  the  stomach  of  England  is  sick  of  brawls  and  blows; 
and  what  ye  devise  is  treason !  " 

Forth  from  the  new  detachment  stepped  a  youth  of 
small  stature,  not  in  armor,  and  with  many  a  weather 
stain  on  his  gorgeous  dress.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
franklin's  shoulder.  "  Honest  and  plain-dealing  fellow, " 
said  he,  "  you  are  right :  pardon  the  foolish  outburst  of 
these  brave  men,  who  cannot  forget  as  yet  that  their 
chief  has  worn  the  crown.  We  come  back  not  to  dis- 
turb this  realm,  nor  to  affect  aught  against  King  Henry, 
whom  the  saints  have  favored.  No,  by  St.  Paul,  we 
come  but  back  to  claim  our  lands  unjustly  forfeit.  My 
noble  brother  here  is  not  king  of  England,  since  the 
people  will  it  not,  but  he  is  Duke  of  York,  and  he  will 
be  contented  if  assured  of  the  style  and  lands  our  father 
left  him.  For  me,  called  Richard  of  Gloucester,  I  ask 
nothing  but  leave  to  spend  my  manhood  where  I  have 
spent  my  youth,  under  the  eyes  of  my  renowned  god- 
father, Richard  Kevile,  Earl  of  Warwick.  So  report  of 
us.     Whither  leads  yon  road  1  " 

"  To  York, "  said  the  franklin,  softened,  despite  his 
judgment,  by  the  irresistible  suavity  of  the  voice  that 
addressed  him. 

"  Thither  will  we  go,  my  lord  duke  and  brother,  with 
your  leave, "  said  Prince  Richard,  "  peaceably  and  as 
petitioners.     God  save  ye,  friends  and  countrymen,  pray 


392         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

for  us,  that  King  Henry  and  the  Parliament  may  do  us 
justice.  We  are  not  over  rich  now,  but  better  times 
may  come.  Largess!  "  and  filling  both  hands  with 
coins  from  his  gipsire,  he  tossed  the  bounty  among  the 
peasants. 

"  Mille  tonnere  !  What  means  he  with  this  humble 
talk  of  King  Henry  and  the  Parliament  1  "  whispered 
Edward  to  the  Lord  Say,  while  the  crowd  scrambled  for 
the  largess,  and  Richard  smilingly  mingled  amongst  them, 
and  conferred  with  the  franklin. 

"  Let  him  alone,  I  pray  you,  my  liege ;  I  guess  his 
wise  design.  And  now  for  our  ships.  What  orders  for 
the  master?  " 

"  For  the  other  vessels,  let  them  sail  or  anchor  as  they 
list.  But  for  the  bark  that  has  borne  Edward  king 
of  England  to  the  land  of  his  ancestors,  there  is  no 
return!  " 

The  royal  adventurer  then  beckoned  the  Flemish 
master  of  the  ship,  who,  with  every  sailor  aboard,  had 
debarked ;  and  the  loose  dresses  of  the  mariners  made  a 
strong  contrast  to  the  mail  of  the  warriors  with  whom 
they  mingled. 

"  Friend !  "  said  Edward,  in  French,  "  thou  hast  said 
that  thou  wilt  share  my  fortunes,  and  that  thy  good 
fellows  are  no  less  free  of  courage  and  leal  in  trust. " 

"  It  is  so,  sire.  Not  a  man  who  has  gazed  on  thy 
face,  and  heard  thy  voice,  but  longs  to  serve  one  on 
whose  brow  Nature  has  written  king.'" 

"  And  trust  me, "  said  Edward,  "  no  prince  of  my 
blood  shall  be  dearer  to  me  than  you  and  yours,  my 
friends  in  danger  and  in  need.  And  sith  it  be  so,  the 
ship  that  hath  borne  such  hearts  and  such  hopes  should, 
in  sooth,  know  no  meaner  freight.      Is  all  prepared  1  " 

"  Yes,  sire,  as  you  ordered.  The  train  is  laid  for  the 
brennen." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         393 

"  Up,  then,  with  the  fiery  signal,  and  let  it  tell,  from 
cliff  to  cliff,  from  town  to  town,  that  Edward  the  Plan- 
tagenet,  once  returned  to  England,  leaves  it  but  for  the 
grave !  " 

The  master  bowed,  and  smiled  grimly.  The  sailors, 
who  had  been  prepared  for  the  burning,  arranged  before 
between  the  master  and  the  prince,  and  whose  careless 
hearts  Edward  had  thoroughly  won  to  his  person  and  his 
cause,  followed  the  former  towards  the  ship,  and  stood 
silently  grouped  around  the  shore.  The  soldiers,  less 
informed,  gazed  idly  on,  and  Richard  now  regained 
Edward's  side. 

"  Reflect,"  lie  said,  as  he  drew  him  apart,  "  that  when 
on  this  spot  landed  Henry  of  Bolingbroke,  he  gave  not 
out  that  he  was  marching  to  the  throne  of  Richard  II. 
He  professed  but  to  claim  his  duchy,  —  and  men  were 
influenced  by  justice,  till  they  became  agents  of  ambi- 
tion. This  be  your  policy :  with  two  thousand  men  you 
are  but  Duke  of  York ;  with  ten  thousand  men  you  are 
King  of  England !  In  passing  hither,  I  met  with  many, 
and  sounding  the  temper  of  the  district,  I  find  it  not 
ripe  to  share  your  hazard.  The  world  soon  ripens  when 
it  hath  to  hail  success  !  " 

"  0  young  boy's  smooth  face !  —  0  old  man's  deep 
brain  !  "  said  Edward,  admiringly,  —  "  what  a  king  hadst 
thou  made!  " 

A  sudden  flush  passed  over  the  prince's  pale  cheek, 
and,  ere  it  died  away,  a  flaming  torch  was  hurled  aloft 
in  the  air,  —  it  fell  whirling  into  the  ship:  a  moment, 
and  a  loud  crash, —  a  moment,  and  a  mighty  blaze!  Up 
sprang  from  the  deck,  along  the  sails,  the  sheeted  fire, — 

"  A  giant  beard  of  flame."  1 

^ , . — - — — .I 

1   <&koyos  fxeyav  -nuiyutva. 

iEsuii.  "Again.,"  314. 


394        THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

It  reddened  the  coast,  —  the  skies  from  far  and  near;  it 
glowed  on  the  faces  and  the  steel  of  the  scanty  army ;  it 
was  seen,  miles  away,  hy  the  warders  of  many  a  castle 
manned  with  the  troops  of  Lancaster;  it  brought  the 
steed  from  the  stall,  the  courier  to  the  selle ;  it  sped,  as 
of  old  the  beacon  fire  that  announced  to  Clytemnestra 
the  return  of  the  Argive  king.  From  post  to  post  rode 
the  fiery  news,  till  it  reached  Lord  Warwick  in  his  hall, 
King  Henry  in  his  palace,  Elizabeth  in  her  sanctuary. 
The  iron  step  of  the  dauntless  Edward  was  once  more 
pressed  upon  the  soil  of  England. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         395 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Progress  of  the  Plantagenet. 

A  few  words  suffice  to  explain  the  formidable  arrival  we 
have  just  announced.  Though  the  Duke  of  Burgundy 
had,  by  public  proclamation,  forbidden  his  subjects  to 
aid  the  exiled  Edward ;  yet,  whether  moved  by  the  en- 
treaties of  his  wife,  or  wearied  by  the  remonstrances  of 
his  broth  er-indaw,  he  at  length  privately  gave  the  de- 
throned monarch  50,000  florins  to  find  troops  for  him- 
self, and  secretly  hired  Flemish  and  Dutch  vessels  to 
convey  him  to  England.1  But,  so  small  was  the  force 
to  which  the  bold  Edward  trusted  his  fortunes,  that  it 
almost  seemed  as  if  Burgundy  sent  him  forth  to  his 
destruction.  He  sailed  from  the  coast  of  Zealand;  the 
winds,  if  less  unmanageable  than  those  that  blew  off 
the  seaport  where  Margaret  and  her  armament  awaited 
a  favoring  breeze,  were  still  adverse.  Scared  from  the 
coast  of  Norfolk  by  the  vigilance  of  Warwick  and  Oxford, 
who  had  filled  that  district  with  armed  men,  storm  and 
tempest  drove  him  at  last  to  Humber  Head,  where  we 
have  seen  him  land,  and  whence  we  pursue  his  steps. 

The  little  band  set  out  upon  its  march,  and  halted  for 
the  night  at  a  small  village  two  miles  inland.  Some  of 
the  men  were  then  sent  out  on  horseback  for  news  of  the 
other  vessels  that  bore  the  remnant  of  the  invading  force. 
These  had,  fortunately,  effected  a  landing  in  various 
places;  and,    before  daybreak,   Anthony  Woodville   and 

1  Comines,  Hall,  Lingard,  S.  Turner. 


396         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  rest  of  the  troops  had  joined  the  leader  of  an  enter- 
prise that  seemed  but  the  rashness  of  despair, —  for  its 
utmost  force,  including  the  few  sailors  allured  to  the 
adventurer's  standard,  was  about  two  thousand  men.1 
Close  and  anxious  was  the  consultation  then  held.  Each 
of  the  several  detachments  reported  alike  of  the  sullen 
indifference  of  the  population,  which  each  had  sought  to 
excite  in  favor  of  Edward.  Light  riders  2  were  despatched 
in  various  directions,  still  farther  to  sound  the  neighbor- 
hood. All  returned  ere  noon,  some  bruised  and  mal- 
treated by  the  stones  and  staves  of  the  rustics,  and  not 
a  voice  had  been  heard  to  echo  the  cry,  "  Long  live  King 
Edward !  "  The  profound  sagacity  of  Gloucester's  guile- 
ful counsel  was  then  unanimously  recognized.  Richard 
despatched  a  secret  letter  to  Clarence;  and  it  was  re- 
solved immediately  to  proceed  to  York,  and  to  publish 
everywhere  along  the  road  that  the  fugitive  had  returned 
but  to  claim  his  private  heritage,  and  remonstrate  with 
the  Parliament  which  had  awarded  the  Duchy  of  York 
to  Clarence,  his  younger  brother. 

"Such  a  power,"  saith  the  Chronicle,  "hath  justice 
ever  among  men,  that  all,  moved  by  mercy  or  compas- 
sion, began  either  to  favor  or  not  to  resist  him. "  And  so, 
wearing  the  Lancastrian  Prince  of  Wales's  cognizance 
of  the  ostrich  feather,  crying  out  as  they  marched,  "  Long 
live  King  Henry,"  the  hardy  liars,  four  days  after  their 
debarkation,  arrived  at  the  gates  of  York. 

Here,  not  till  after  much  delay  and  negotiation, 
Edward  was  admitted  only  as  Duke  of  York,  and  upon 
condition  that  he  would  swear  to  be  a  faithful  and 
loyal  servant  to  King  Henry ;  and  at  the  gate  by  which 
he   was  to   enter,   Edward  actually  took  that  oath,    "  a 

1  Fifteen  hundred,  according  to  the  Croyland  historian. 

2  Hall. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         397 

priest  being  by  to  say  mass  in  the  mass  tyme,  receiving 
the  body  of  our  blessed  Saviour!  "  x 

Edward  tarried  not  long  in  York ;  he  pushed  forward. 
Two  great  nobles  guarded  those  districts,  —Montagu, 
and  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  to  whom  Edward  had 
restored  his  lands  and  titles,  and  who,  on  condition  of 
retaining  them,  had  re-entered  the  service  of  Lancaster. 
This  last,  a  true  server  of  the  times,  who  had  sided  with 
all  parties,  now  judged  it  discreet  to  remain  neutral.2 
But  Edward  must  pass  within  a  few  miles  of  Pontefract 
Castle,  where  Montagu  lay  with  a  force  that  could  de- 
stroy him  at  a  blow.  Edward  was  prepared  for  the 
assault,  but  trusted  to  deceive  the  marquis,  as  he  had 
deceived  the  citizens  of  York,  —  the  more  for  the  strong 
personal  love  Montagu  had  ever  shown  him.  If  not, 
he  was  prepared  equally  to  die  in  the  field,  rather  than 
eat  again  the  bitter  bread  of  the  exile.  But  to  his  incon- 
ceivable joy  and  astonishment,  Montagu,  like  Northum- 
berland, lay  idle  and  supine.  Edward  and  his  little 
troop  threaded  safely  the  formidable  pass.  Alas!  Mon- 
tagu had  that  day  received  a  formal  order  from  the  Duke 
of  Clarence,  as  co-protector  of  the  realm,8  to  suffer  Ed- 

i  Hall. 

'2  This  is  the  most  favorable  interpretation  of  his  conduct ;  ac- 
cording to  some  he  was  in  correspondence  with  Edward,  who 
showed  his  letters. 

3  Our  historians  have  puzzled  their  brains  in  ingenious  conjec- 
tures of  the  cause  of  Montagu's  fatal  supineness  at  this  juncture, 
and  have  passed  over  the  only  probable  solution  of  the  mystery, 
which  is  to  be  found  simply  enough  stated  thus  in  Stowe's 
"  Chronicle :  "  —  "  The  Marquis  Montacute  would  have  fought 
with  King  Edward,  but  that  he  had  received  letters  from  the 
Duke  of  Clarence  that  he  should  not  fight  till  hee  came."  This 
explanation  is  borne  out  by  the  Warkworth  Chronicler  and  others, 
who,  in  an  evident  mistake  of  the  person  addressed,  state  that  Clar- 
ence wrote  word  to  Warwick  not  to  fight  till  he  came.     Clarence 


398  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

ward  to  march  on,  provided  his  force  was  small,  and  he 
had  taken  the  oaths  to  Henry,  and  assumed  hut  the 
title  of  Duke  of  York,  "  for  your  brother  the  earl  hath 
had  compunctious  visitings,  and  would  fain  forgive 
what  hath  passed,  for  my  father's  sake,  and  unite  all 
factions  by  Edward's  voluntary  abdication  of  the  throne, 
—  at  all  hazards,  I  am  on  my  way  northward,  and  you 
will  not  fight  till  I  come."  The  marquis,  who  knew 
the  conscientious  doubts  which  Warwick  had  entertained 
in  his  darker  hours,  who  had  no  right  to  disobey  the 
co-protector,  who  knew  no  reason  to  suspect  Lord  War- 
wick's son-in-law,  and  who,  moreover,  was  by  no  means 
anxious  to  be  himself  the  executioner  of  Edward,  whom 
he  had  once  so  truly  loved, —  though  a  little  marvelling  at 
Warwick's  softness,  yet  did  not  discredit  the  letter,  and 
the  less  regarded  the  free  passage  he  left  to  the  returned 
exiles,  from  contempt  for  the  smallness  of  their  numbers, 
and  Ids  persuasion  that  if  the  earl  saw  fit  to  alter  his 
counsels,  Edward  was  still  more  in  his  power  the  farther 
he  advanced  amidst  a  hostile  population,  and  towards 
the  armies  which  the  Lords  Exeter  and  Oxford  were 
already  mustering. 

But  that  free  passage  was  everything  to  Edward! 
It  made  men  think  that  Montagu,  as  well  as  Northum- 
berland, favored  his  enterprise ;  that  the  hazard  was 
less  rash  and  hopeless  than  it  had  seemed ;  that  Edward 
counted  upon   finding  his  most   powerful  allies   among 

could  not  have  written  so  to  Warwick,  who,  according  to  all  au- 
thorities, was  mustering  his  troops  near  London,  and  not  in  the 
way  to  fight  Edward  ;  nor  could  Clarence  have  had  authority  to 
issue  such  commands  to  his  colleague,  nor  would  his  colleague 
have  attended  to  them,  since  we  have  the  amplest  testimony  that 
Warwick  was  urging  all  his  captains  to  attack  Edward  at  once. 
The  duke's  order  was,  therefore,  clearly  addressed  to  Montagu. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         399 

those  falsely  supposed  to  be  his  enemies.  The  popu- 
larity Edward  had  artfully  acquired  amongst  the  captains 
of  Warwick's  own  troops,  on  the  march  to  Middleham, 
now  bestead  him.  Many  of  them  were  knights  and 
gentlemen  residing  in  the  very  districts  through  which 
he  passed.  They  did  not  join  him,  but  they  did  not 
oppose.     Then,  rapidly  flocked  to  "  the  Sun  of  York, " 

—  first,  the  adventurers  and  condottieri,  who  in  civil 
Avar  adopt  any  side  for  pay ;  next  came  the  disappointed, 
the  ambitious,  and  the  needy.  The  hesitating  began 
to  resolve,  the  neutral  to  take  a  part.  From  the  state 
of  petitioners  supplicating  a  pardon,  every  league  the 
Yorkists  marched  advanced  them  to  the  dignity  of  asser- 
tors  of  a  cause.  Doncaster  first,  then  Nottingham,  then 
Leicester,  —  true  to  the  town  spirit  we  have  before 
described,  —  opened  their  gates  to  the  trader  prince. 

Oxford  and  Exeter  reached  Newark  with  their  force. 
Edward  marched  on  them  at  once.  Deceived  as  to  his 
numbers,  they  took  panic  and  fled.  When  once  the 
foe  flies,  friends  ever  start  up  from  the  very  earth! 
Hereditary  partisans  —  gentlemen,   knights,   and   nobles 

—  now  flocked  fast  round  the  adventurer.  Then  came 
Lovell,  and  Cromwell,  and  D'Eyncourt,  ever  true  to 
York ;  and  Stanley,  never  true  to  any  cause.  Then  came 
the  brave  knights  Parr  and  Norris,  and  De  Burgh ;  and 
no  less  than  three  thousand  retainers  belonging  to  Lord 
Hastings — the  new  man  —  obeyed  the  summons  of  his 
couriers  and  joined  their  chief  at  Leicester. 

Edward  of  March,  who  had  landed  at  Ravenspur 
with  a  handful  of  brigands,  now  saw  a  king's  army 
under  his  banner.1     Then  the  audacious  perjurer  threw 

1  The  perplexity  and  confusion  which  involve  the  annals  of  this 
period  may  be  guessed  by  this,  —  that  two  historians,  eminent  for 
research  (Lingard  and  Sharon  Turner)  differ  so  widely  as  to  the 


400         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

away  the  mask;  then  forth  went  —  not  the  prayer  of 
the  attainted  Duke  of  York  —  but  the  proclamation  of 
the  indignant  king.  England  now  beheld  two  sovereigns, 
equal  in  their  armies.  It  was  no  longer  a  rebellion  to 
be  crushed ;  it  was  a  dynasty  to  be  decided. 

numbers  who  had  now  joined  Edward,  that  Lingard  asserts  that  at 
Nottingham  he  was  at  the  head  of  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  men  ; 
and  Turner  gives  him,  at  the  most,  between  six  and  seven  thou- 
sand. The  latter  seems  nearer  to  the  truth.  We  must  here  re- 
gret that  Turner's  partiality  to  the  House  of  York  induces  him  to 
slur  over  Edward's  detestable  perjury  at  York,  and  to  accumulate 
all  rhetorical  arts  to  command  admiration  for  his  progress,  —  to 
the  prejudice  of  the  salutary  moral  horror  we  ought  to  feel  for  the 
atrocious  perfidy  and  violation  of  oath  to  which  he  owed  the  first 
impunity  that  secured  the  after  triumph. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         401 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Lord  Warwick,  with  the  Foe  in  the  Field,  and  the  Traitor  at 

the  Hearth. 

Evert  precaution  which  human  wisdom  could  foresee 
had  Lord  Warwick  taken  to  guard  against  invasion,  or 
to  crush  it  at  the  onset.1  All  the  coasts  on  which 
it  was  most  probable  Edward  would  land  had  been 
strongly  guarded.  And  if  the  Humber  had  been  left 
without  regular  troops,  it  was  because  prudence  might 
calculate  that  the  very  spot  where  Edward  did  land 
was  the  very  last  he  would  have  selected,  —  unless 
guided  by  fate  to  his  destruction, —  in  the  midst  of  an 
unfriendly  population,  and  in  the  face  of  the  armies  of 
Northumberland  and  of  Montagu.  The  moment  the 
earl  heard  of  Edward's  reception  at  York,  —  far  from 
the  weakness  which  the  false  Clarence  (already  in  cor- 
respondence with  Gloucester)  imputed  to  him,  —  he 
despatched  to  Montagu,  by  Marmaduke  Nevile,  per- 
emptory orders  to  intercept  Edward's  path,  and  give 
him  battle  before  he  could  advance  farther  towards  the 
centre  of  the  island.  We  shall  explain  presently  why 
this  messenger  did  not  reach  the  marquis.  But  Clar- 
ence was  some  hours  before  him  in  his  intelligence  and 
his  measures. 

When  the  earl  next,  heard  that  Edward  had  passed 
Pontefract  with  impunity,  and  had  reached  Doncaster, 
he  flew  first  to  London,  to  arrange  for  its  defence; 
consigned    the    care   of   Henry   to   the    Archbishop   of 

i  Hall. 

VOL.  II.  —  26 


402         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

York,  mustered  a  force  already  quartered  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  metropolis,  and  then  marched  rapidly 
back  towards  Coventry,  where  he  had  left  Clarence 
with  seven  thousand  men;  while  he  despatched  new 
messengers  to  Montagu  and  Northumberland,  severely 
rebuking  the  former  for  his  supineness,  and  ordering 
him  to  march  in  all  haste  to  attack  Edward  in  the 
rear.  The  earl's  activity,  promptitude,  and  all-provi- 
dent generalship,  form  a  mournful  contrast  to  the 
errors,  the  pusillanimity,  and  the  treachery  of  others, 
which  hitherto,  as  we  have  seen,  made  all  his  wisest 
schemes  abortive.  Despite  Clarence's  sullenness,  War- 
wick had  discovered  no  reason,  as  yet,  to  doubt  his 
good  faith.  The  oath  he  had  taken  —  not  only  to 
Henry,  in  London,  but  to  Warwick,  at  Amboise  —  had 
been  the  strongest  which  can  bind  man  to  man.  If 
the  duke  had  not  gained  all  he  had  hoped,  he  had 
still  much  to  lose  and  much  to  dread  by  desertion  to 
Edward.  He  had  been  the  loudest  in  bold  assertions 
when  he  heard  of  the  invasion;  and,  above  all,  Isabel, 
whose  influence  over  Clarence,  at  that  time,  the  earl 
overrated,  had,  at  the  tidings  of  so  imminent  a  danger 
to  her  father,  forgot  all  her  displeasure  and  recovered 
all  her  tenderness. 

During  Warwick's  brief  absence,  Isabel  had,  indeed, 
exerted  her  utmost  power  to  repair  her  former  wrongs, 
and  induce  Clarence  to  be  faithful  to  his  oath.  Although 
her  inconsistency  and  irresolution  had  much  weakened 
her  influence  with  the  duke,  for  natures  like  his  are 
governed  but  by  the  ascendancy  of  a  steady  and  tran- 
quil will,  yet  still  she  so  far  prevailed,  that  the  duke 
had  despatched  to  Richard  a  secret  courier,  informing 
him  that  he  had  finally  resolved  not  to  desert  his 
father-in-law. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         403 

This  letter  reached  Gloucester  as  the  invaders  were 
on  their  march  to  Coventry,  before  the  strong  walls  of 
which  the  Duke  of  Clarence  lay  encamped.  Richard, 
after  some  intent  and  silent  reflection,  beckoned  to  him 
his  familiar  Catesby. 

"  Marmaduke  Nevile,  whom  our  scouts  seized  on  his 
way  to  Pontefract,  is  safe,  and  in  the  rear?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord ;  prisoners  but  encumber  us :  shall  I 
give  orders  to  the  provost  to  end  his  captivity  1  " 

"  Ever  ready,  Catesby !  "  said  the  duke,  with  a  fell 
smile.  "No, —  harkye,  Clarence  vacillates:  if  he  hold 
firm  to  Warwick,  and  the  two  forces  fight  honestly 
against  us,  we  are  lost;  on  the  other  hand,  if  Clarence 
join  us,  his  defection  will  bring  not  only  the  men  he 
commands,  —  all  of  whom  are  the  retainers  of  the  York 
lands  and  duchy,  and  therefore  free  from  peculiar  bias 
to  the  earl,  and  easily  lured  back  to  their  proper  chief, — 
but  it  will  set  an  example  that  will  create  such  dis- 
trust and  panic  amongst  the  enemy,  and  give  such 
hope  of  fresh  desertions  to  our  own  men,  as  will  open 
to  us  the  keys  of  the  metropolis.  But  Clarence,  I  say, 
vacillates;  look  you,  here  is  his  letter  from  Amboise 
to  King  Edward;  see,  his  duchess,  Warwick's  very 
daughter,  approves  the  promise  it  contains!  If  this 
letter  reach  Warwick,  and  Clarence  knows  it  is  in  his 
hand,  George  will  have  no  option  but  to  join  us.  He 
will  never  dare  to  face  the  earl,  his  pledge  to  Edward 
once  revealed  —  " 

"  Most  true ;  a  very  legal  subtlety,  my  lord, "  said 
the  lawyer   Catesby,  admiringly. 

"You  can  serve  us  in  this.  Fall  back;  join  Sir 
Marmaduke;  affect  to  sympathize  with  him;  affect  to 
side  with  the  earl;  affect  to  make  terms  for  Warwick's 
amity    and   favor;    affect   to    betray  us;    affect   to    have 


404         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

stolen  this  letter.  Give  it  to  young  Nevile,  artfully 
effect  his  escape,  as  if  against  our  knowledge,  and  com- 
mend him  to  lose  not  an  hour  —  a  moment  —  in  gaining 
the  earl,  and  giving  him  so  important  a  forewarning  of 
the  meditated   treason  of  his  son-in-law." 

"  I  will  do  all,  — ■  I  comprehend :  but  how  will  the 
duke  learn  in  time  that  the  letter  is  on  its  way  to 
Warwick  1  " 

"  I  will  see  the  duke  in  his  own  tent. " 

"  And  how  shall  I  effect  Sir  Marmaduke's  escape  1  " 

"  Send  hither  the  officer  who  guards  the  prisoner; 
I  will  give  him  orders  to  obey  thee  in  all  things." 

The  invaders  marched  on.  The  earl,  meanwhile, 
had  reached  Warwick, —  hastened  thence,  to  throw  him- 
self into  the  stronger  fortifications  of  the  neighboring 
Coventry,  without  the  walls  of  which  Clarence  was  still 
encamped.  Edward  advanced  on  the  town  of  Warwick 
thus  vacated;  and  Richard,  at  night,  rode  alone  to  the 
camp  of  Clarence.1 

The  next  day,  the  earl  was  employed  in  giving  orders 
to  his  lieutenants  to  march  forth,  join  the  troops  of  his 
son-in-law,  who  were  a  mile  from  the  walls,  and  advance 
upon  Edward,  who  had  that  morning  quitted  Warwick 
town,  when,  suddenly,  Sir  Marmaduke  Nevile  rushed 
into  his  presence,  and  faltering  out,  "  Beware,  beware  !  " 
placed  in  his  hands  the  fatal  letter  which  Clarence  had 
despatched  from  Amboise. 

Never  did  blow  more  ruthless  fall  upon  man's  heart! 
Clarence's  perfidy,  —  that  might  be  disdained ;  but  the 
closing  lines,  which  revealed  a  daughter's  treachery,  — 
words  cannot  express  the  father's  anguish. 

The  letter  dropped  from  his  hand,  a  stupor  seized 
his  senses,    and,    ere   yet  recovered,    pale   men  hurried 

1  Hall,  and  others. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         405 

into  his  presence  to  relate  how,  amidst  joyous  trumpets 
and  streaming  banners,  Richard  of  Gloucester  had  led 
the  Duke  of  Clarence  to  the  brotherly  embrace  of 
Edward.1 

Breaking  from  these  messengers  of  evil  news,  that 
could  not  now  surprise,  the  earl  strode  on,  alone,  to  his 
daughter's  chamber. 

He  placed  the  letter  in  her  hands,  and,  folding  his 
arms,  said,  "  What  sayest  thou  of  this,  Isabel  of 
Clarence  1  " 

The  terror,  the  shame,  the  remorse,  that  seized  upon 
the  wretched  lady;  the  death-like  lips;  the  suppressed 
shriek ;  the  momentary  torpor,  succeeded  by  the  impulse 
which  made  her  fall  at  her  father's  feet,  and  clasp  his 
knees,  —  told  the  earl,  if  he  had  before  doubted,  that  the 
letter  lied  not,  that  Isabel  had  known  and  sanctioned  its 
contents. 

He  gazed  on  her  (as  she  grovelled  at  his  feet)  with  a 
look  that  her  eyes  did  well  to  shun. 

"Curse  me  not,  curse  me  not!"  cried  Isabel,  awed 
by  his  very  silence.  "  It  was  but  a  brief  frenzy.  Evil 
counsel,  evil  passion!  I  was  maddened  that  my  boy 
had  lost  a  crown.  I  repented,  I  repented,  —  Clarence 
shall  yet  be  true.  He  hath  promised  it,  — ■  vowed  it 
to  me ;  hath  written  to  Gloucester  to  retract  all,  to  —  " 

"  Woman!  —  Clarence  is  in  Edward's  camp  !  " 

Isabel  started  to  her  feet,  and  uttered  a  shriek  so 
wild  and  despairing,  that  at  least  it  gave  to  her  father's 

1  Hall.  The  chronicler  adds,  "  It  was  no  marvell  that  the 
Duke  of  Clarence,  with  so  small  persuasion  and  less  exhorting, 
turned  from  the  Earl  of  Warwick's  party,  for,  as  you  have  heard 
before,  this  merchandise  was  labored,  conducted,  and  concluded  by 
a  damsell,  when  the  duke  was  in  the  French  court,  to  the  earl's 
utter  confusion."  Hume  makes  a  notable  mistake  in  deferring 
the  date  of  Clarence's  desertion  to  the  battle  of  Barnet. 


406  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAROx\TS. 

lacerated  heart  the  miserable  solace  of  believing  the 
last  treason  had  not  been  shared.  A  softer  expression 
—  one  of  pity,  if  not  of  pardon  —  stole  over  his  dark 
face. 

"  I  curse  thee  not, "  he  said ;  "  I  rebuke  thee  not. 
Thy  sin  hath  its  own  penance.  Ill  omen  broods  on  the 
hearth  of  the  household  traitor !  Never  more  shalt 
thou  see  holy  love  in  a  husband's  smile.  His  kiss 
shall  have  the  taint  of  Judas.  From  his  arms  thou  shalt 
start  with  horror,  as  from  those  of  thy  wronged  father's 
betrayer,  —  perchance  his  deathsman  !  Ill  omen  broods 
on  the  cradle  of  the  child  for  whom  a  mother's  ambi- 
tion was  but  a  daughter's  perfidy.  Woe  to  thee,  wife 
and  mother!  Even  my  forgiveness  cannot  avert  thy 
doom !  " 

"  Kill  me,  kill  me ! "  exclaimed  Isabel,  springing 
towards  him;  but  seeing  his  face  averted,  his  arms 
folded  on  his  breast,  — that  noble  breast,  never  again 
her  shelter,  —  she  fell  lifeless  on  the  floor.1 

The  earl  looked  round  to  see  that  none  were  by  to  wit- 
ness his  weakness,  took  her  gently  in  his  arms,  laid  her 

1  As  our  narrative  does  not  embrace  the  future  fate  of  the 
Duchess  of  Clarence,  the  reader  will  pardon  us  if  we  remind 
him  that  her  first-born  (who  bore  his  illustrious  grandfather's  title 
of  Earl  of  Warwick)  was  cast  into  prison  on  the  accession  of 
Henry  VII.,  and  afterwards  beheaded  by  that  king.  By  birth  he 
was  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne.  The  ill-fated  Isabel  died  young 
(five  years  after  the  date  at  which  our  tale  has  arrived).  One  of 
her  female  attendants  was  tried  and  executed  on  the  charge  of  hav- 
ing poisoned  her.  Clarence  lost  no  time  in  seeking  to  supply  her 
place.  He  solicited  the  hand  of  Mary  of  Burgundy,  sole  daughter 
and  heir  of  Charles  the  Bold.  Edward's  jealousy  and  fear  for- 
bade him  to  listen  to  an  alliance  that  might,  as  Lingard  observes, 
enable  Clarence  "  to  employ  the  power  of  Burgundy  to  win  the 
crown  of  England ; "  and  hence  arose  those  dissensions  which 
ended  in  the  secret  murder  of  the  perjured  duke. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS.         407 

on  her  couch,  and,  hending  over  her  a  moment,  prayed 
God  to  pardon  her. 

He  then  hastily  left  the  room,  — •  ordered  her  hand- 
maids and  her  litter;  and  while  she  was  yet  unconscious, 
the  gates  of  the  town  opened,  and  forth  through  the  arch 
went  the  closed  and  curtained  vehicle  which  bore  the  ill- 
fated  duchess  to  the  new  home  her  husband  had  made 
with  her  father's  foe !  The  earl  watched  it  from  the  case- 
ment of  his  tower,  and  said  to  himself,  — 

"  I  had  been  unmanned,  had  I  known  her  within  the 
same  walls.  Now  forever  I  dismiss  her  memory  and  her 
crime.  Treachery  hath  done  its  worst,  and  my  soul  is 
proof  against  all  storms !  " 

At  night  came  messengers  from  Clarence  and  Edward, 
who  had  returned  to  Warwick  town,  with  offers  of  par- 
don to  the  earl,  —  with  promises  of  favor,  power,  and 
grace.  To  Edward,  the  earl  deigned  no  answer;  to  the 
messenger  of  Clarence  he  gave  this,  —  "  Tell  thy  master, 
I  had  liefer  be  always  like  myself,  than  like  a  false  and  a 
perjured  duke,  and  that  I  am  determined  never  to  leave 
the  war  till  I  have  lost  mine  own  life,  or  utterly  extin- 
guished and  put  down  my  foes. "  1 

After  this  terrible  defection,  neither  his  remaining 
forces,  nor  the  panic  amongst  them  which  the  duke's 
desertion  had  occasioned,  nor  the  mighty  interests  in- 
volved in  the  success  of  his  arms,  nor  the  irretrievable 
advantage  which  even  an  engagement  of  equivocal  result 
with  the  earl  in  person  would  give  to  Edward,  justified 
Warwick  in  gratifying  the  anticipations  of  the  enemy,  — 
that  his  valor  and  wrath  would  urge  him  into  immediate 
and  imprudent  battle. 

Edward,  after  the  vain  bravado  of  marching  up  to  the 
walls  of  Coventry,  moved  on  towards  London.     Thither 

i  Hall. 


408         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  earl  sent  Marmaduke,  enjoining  the  Archbishop  of 
York  and  the  lord  mayor  but  to  hold  out  the  city 
for  three  days,  and  he  would  come  to  their  aid  with 
such  a  force  as  would  insure  lasting  triumph.  For, 
indeed,  already  were  hurrying  to  his  banner,  Montagu, 
burning  to  retrieve  his  error,  —  Oxford  and  Exeter, 
recovered  from,  and  chafing  at  their  past  alarm. 
Thither  his  nephew,  Fitzhugh,  led  the  earl's  own 
clansmen  of  Middleham ;  thither  were  spurring  Somerset 
from  the  west,1  and  Sir  Thomas  Dymoke  from  Lincoln- 
shire, and  the  Knight  of  Lytton,  with  his  hardy 
retainers,  from  the  Peak.  Bold  Hilyard  waited  not 
far  from  London,  with  a  host  of  mingled  yeomen 
and  bravoes,  reduced,  as  before,  to  discipline  under 
his  own  sturdy  energies,  and  the  military  craft  of  Sir 
John  Coniers.  If  London  would  but  hold  out  till 
these  forces  could  unite,  Edward's  destruction  was  still 
inevitable. 

1  Most  historians  state  that  Somerset  was  then  in  Loudon  ;  but 
Sharon  Turner  quotes  "  Harleian  MSS."  38,  to  show  that  he  had 
left  the  metropolis  "  to  raise  an  army  from  the  western  counties," 
and  ranks  him  amongst  the  generals  at  the  battle  of  Barnet. 


BOOK   XII. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BARNET. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  King  in  his  City  hopes  to  recover  his  Realm  —  A  Woman  in 
her  Chamber  fears  to  forfeit  her  own. 

Edward  and  his  army  reached  St.  Alhan's.  Great 
commotion,  great  joy,  were  in  the  Sanctuary  of  West- 
minster !  The  Jerusalem  Chamber,  therein,  was  made 
the  high  council-hall  of  the  friends  of  York.  Great 
commotion,  great  terror,  were  in  the  city  of  London, — 
timid  Master  Stokton  had  been  elected  mayor;  horribly 
frightened  either  to  side  with  an  Edward  or  a  Henry, 
timid  Master  Stokton  feigned  or  fell  ill.  Sir  Thomas 
Cook,  a  wealthy  and  influential  citizen,  and  a  member 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  had  been  appointed  deputy 
in  his  stead.  Sir  Thomas  Cook  took  fright  also,  and 
ran  away.1  The  power  of  the  city  thus  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Ursewike,  the  Recorder,  a  zealous  Yorkist. 
Great  commotion,  great  scorn,  were  in  the  breasts  of 
the  populace,  as  the  Archbishop  of  York,  hoping  thereby 
to  rekindle  their  loyalty,  placed  King  Henry  on  horse- 
back, and  paraded  him  through  the  streets,  from  Cheap- 
side  to  Walbrook,  from  Walbrook  to  St.  Paul's;  for  the 
news  of  Edward's  arrival,  and  the  sudden  agitation  and 

1  Fabtan. 


410         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

excitement   it   produced   on   his   enfeebled    frame,    had 
brought  upon  the  poor  king  one  of  the  epileptic  attacks 
to  which  he  had  been  subject  from  childhood,  and  which 
made  the   cause    of   his   frequent    imbecility;  and,   just 
recovered  from   such   a   fit,  —  his  eyes   vacant,   his  face 
haggard,  his  head  drooping,  —  the  spectacle  of  such  an 
antagonist   to    the    vigorous  Edward,  moved   only    pity 
in  the  few,  and  ridicule  in  the  many.     Two  thousand 
Yorkist  gentlemen  were  in  the  various  sanctuaries;  aided 
and  headed  by  the  Earl  of  Essex,  they  came  forth  armed 
and    clamorous,     scouring    the     streets,    and    shouting, 
"  King   Edward !  "   with   impunity.     Edward's   popular- 
ity in    London  was  heightened  amongst   the   merchants 
by  prudent   reminiscences  of   the  vast  debts  he  had  in- 
curred,  which  his    victory   only   could   ever  enable  him 
to  repay  to  his  good  citizens.1     The  women  —  always,  in 
such  a  movement,  active  partisans,  and  useful  —  deserted 
their  hearths  to  canvas  all  strong  arms  and  stout  hearts 
for   the    handsome    woman-lover.2     The    Yorkist    Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  did  his  best  with  the  ecclesiastics, 
—  the    Yorkist   Recorder    his    best    with    the    flat-caps. 
Alwyn,    true  to  his  ante-feudal  principles,   animated  all 
the  young  freemen  to  support  the  merchant  king,  —  the 
favorer  of  commerce,  the  man   of  his  age  !     The   city 
authorities  began  to  yield  to  their  own  and  the  general 
metropolitan  predilections.      But  still  the  Archbishop  of 
York    had    six    thousand    soldiers    at    his    disposal,    and 
London  could  be  yet  saved  to  Warwick,  if  the  prelate 
acted   with   energy,   and   zeal,    and   good   faith.      That 
such  was  his  first  intention  is  clear,  from  his  appeal  to 
the    public    loyalty    in    King    Henry's     procession;    but 
when   he    perceived    how  little  effect  that  pageant  had 
produced,  —  when,  on  re-entering  the  Bishop  of  London's 
i  Comixes.  a  Ibid. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         411 

palace,  he  saw  before  him  the  guileless,  helpless  puppet 
of  contending  factions,  gasping  for  breath,  scarcely  able 
to  articulate,  —  the  heartless  prelate  turned  away,  with 
a  muttered  ejaculation  of  contempt :  — 

"  Clarence  had  not  deserted, "  said  he  to  himself, 
"  unless  he  saw  greater  profit  with  King  Edward !  " 
And  then  he  began  to  commune  with  himself,  and  to 
commune  with  his  brother-prelate  of  Canterbury ;  and 
in  the  midst  of  all  this  commune  arrived  Catesby, 
charged  with  messages  to  the  archbishop  from  Edward, 

—  messages  full  of  promise  and  affection  on  the  one 
hand,   of  menace   and  revenge   upon   the  other.     Brief, 

—  Warwick's  cup  of  bitterness  had  not  yet  been  filled ; 
that  night  the  archbishop  and  the  mayor  of  London 
met,  and  the  Tower  was  surrendered  to  Edward's 
friends;  the  next  day  Edward  and  his  army  entered, 
amidst  the  shouts  of  the  populace, —  rode  to  St.  Paul's, 
where  the  archbishop  1  met  him,  leading  Henry  by  the 
hand,  again  a  captive;  thence  Edward  proceeded  to 
Westminster  Abbey,  and,  fresh  from  his  atrocious  per- 
jury at  York,  offered  thanksgivings  for  its  success.  The 
Sanctuary  yielded  up  its  royal  fugitives,  and,  in  joy 
and  in  pomp,  Edward  led  his  wife  and  her  new-born 
babe,  with  Jacquetta  and  his  elder  children,  to  Bay- 
nard's  Castle. 

The  next  morning  (the  third  day),  true  to  his  prom- 
ise, Warwick  marched  towards  London  with  the  mighty 
armament  he  had  now  collected.  Treason  had  done  its 
work,  —  the  metropolis  was  surrendered,  and  King  Henry 
in  the  Tower. 

1  Sharon  Turner.  It  is  a  comfort  to  think  that  this  arch- 
bishop was,  two  years  afterwards,  first  robbed,  and  then  impris- 
oned, by  Edward  IV. ;  nor  did  he  recover  his  liberty  till  a  few 
weeks  before  his  death,  in  1476  (five  years  subsequently  to  the 
battle  of  Barnet). 


412         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

"  These  things  considered, "  says  the  chronicler,  "  the 
earl  saw  that  all  calculations  of  necessity  were  brought 
to  this  end,  —  that  they  must  now  be  committed  to  the 
hazard  and  chance  of  one  battle. " x  He  halted,  there- 
fore, at  St.  Alban's,  to  rest  his  troops;  and,  marching 
thence  towards  Barnet,  pitched  his  tents  on  the  upland 
ground,  then  called  the  Heath  or  Chase  of  Gladsmoor, 
and  waited  the  coming  foe. 

Nor  did  Edward  linger  long  from  that  stern  meeting. 
Entering  London  on  the  11th  of  April,  he  prepared  to 
quit  it  on  the  13th.  Besides  the  force  he  had  brought 
with  him,  he  had  now  recruits  in  his  partisans  from 
the  sanctuaries  and  other  hiding-places  in  the  metrop- 
olis, while  London  furnished  him,  from  her  high- 
spirited  youths,  a  gallant  troop  of  bow  and  bill-men, 
whom  Alwyn  had  enlisted,  and  to  whom  Edward  will- 
ingly appointed,  as  captain,  Alwyn  himself,  —  who  had 
atoned  for  his  submission  to  Henry's  restoration  by  such 
signal  activity  on  behalf  of  the  young  king,  whom  he 
associated  with  the  interests  of  his  class,  and  the  weal 
of  the  great  commercial  city,  which  some  years  after- 
wards rewarded  his  affection  by  electing  him  to  her  chief 
magistracy.2 

It  was  on  that  very  day,  the  13th  of  April,  some 
hours  before  the  departure  of  the  York  army,  that  Lord 
Hastings  entered  the  Tower,  to  give  orders  relative  to 
the  removal  of  the  unhappy  Henry,  whom  Edward  had 
resolved  to  take  with  him  on  his  march. 

i  Hall. 

2  Nicholas  Alwyn,  the  representative  of  that  generation  which 
aided  the  commercial  and  anti-feudal  policy  of  Edward  IV.  and 
Richard  III.,  and  welcomed  its  consummation  under  their  Tudor 
successor,  rose  to  be  Lord  Mayor  of  London  in  the  fifteenth  year 
of  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.  — Fabyan. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         413 

And  as  he  had  so  ordered,  and  was  ahont  to  return, 
Alwyn,  emerging  from  one  of  the  interior  courts, 
approached  him  in  much  agitation,  and  said  thus,  — 
"  Pardon  me,  my  lord,  if  in  so  grave  an  hour  I  recall 
your  attention  to  one  you  may  haply  have  forgotten. " 

"  Ah,  the  poor  maiden ;  but  you  told  me,  in  the 
hurried  words  that  we  have  already  interchanged,  that 
she  was  safe  and  well." 

"Safe,  my  lord, —  not  well.  Oh,  hear  me.  I  depart 
to  battle  for  your  cause  and  your  king's.  A  gentleman 
in  your  train  has  advised  me  that  you  are  married  to  a 
noble  dame  in  the  foreign  land.  If  so,  this  girl  whom 
I  have  loved  so  long  and  truly,  may  yet  forget  you, — 
may  yet  be  mine.  Oh,  give  me  that  hope  to  make  me 
a  brave  soldier." 

"  But, "  said  Hastings,  embarrassed,  and  with  a  chang- 
ing countenance,  —  "  but  time  presses,  and  I  know  not 
where  the  demoiselle  —  " 

"  She  is  here, "  interrupted  Alwyn ;  "  here,  within 
these  walls, —  in  yonder  courtyard.  I  have  just  left 
her.  You,  whom  she  loves,  forgot  her!  i",  whom  she 
disdains,  remembered.  T  went  to  see  to  her  safety,  — 
to  counsel  her  to  rest  here  for  the  present,  whatever 
betides:  and,  at  every  word  I  said,  she  broke  in  upon 
me  but  with  one  name,  —  that  name  was  thine !  And 
when  stung,  and  in  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  I 
exclaimed,  '  He  deserves  not  this  devotion.  They  tell 
me,  Sibyll,  that  Lord  Hastings  has  found  a  wife  in 
exile,'  —  oh,  that  look!  that  cry!  they  haunt  me  still. 
'  Prove  it,  prove  it,  Alwyn, '  she  cried,  '  and  —  '  I 
interrupted,  '  And  thou  couldst  yet,  for  thy  father's 
sake ,  be  true  wife  to  me  ? '  " 

"  Her  answer,  Alwyn  1  " 

"It  was  this, — '  For  my  father's   sake,    only,   then, 


414         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

could  I  live  on ;  and  —  '  her  sobs  stopped  her  speech, 
till  she  cried  again,  '  I  believe  it  not!  thou  hast  deceived 
me.  Only  from  his  lips  will  I  hear  the  sentence.' 
Go  to  her,  manfully  and  frankly,  as  becomes  you,  high 
lord,  — go!  It  is  but  a  single  sentence  thou  hast  to 
say,  and  thy  heart  will  be  the  lighter,  and  thine  arm 
the  stronger,   for  those  honest  words." 

Hastings  pulled  his  cap  over  his  brow,  and  stood  a 
moment  as  if  in  reflection ;  he  then  said,  "  Show  me 
the  way ;  thou  art  right.  It  is  due  to  her  and  to  thee ; 
and  as,  by  this  hour  to-morrow,  my  soul  may  stand 
before  the  Judgment-seat,  that  poor  child's  pardon  may 
take  one  sin  from  the  large  account." 


THE  LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  415 


CHAPTER  II. 

Sharp  is  the  Kiss  of  the  Falcon's  Beak. 

Hastings  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  girl  to  whom  he 
had  pledged  his  troth.  They  were  alone;  hut  in  the 
next  chamher  might  be  heard  the  peculiar  sound  made 
by  the  mechanism  of  the  Eureka.  Happy  and  lifeless 
mechanism,  which  moves,  and  toils,  and  strives  on,  to 
change  the  destiny  of  millions,  but  hath  neither  ear, 
nor  eye,  nor  sense,  nor  heart,  —  the  avenues  of  pain  to 
man !  She  had  —  yes,  literally  —  she  had  recognized 
her  lover's  step  upon  the  stair,  she  had  awakened  at 
once  from  that  dull  and  icy  lethargy  with  which  the 
words  of  Alwyn  had  chained  life  and  soul.  She  sprang 
forward  as  Hastings  entered,  —  she  threw  herself,  in 
delirious  joy,  upon  his  bosom.  "  Thou  art  come,  thou 
art !  It  is  not  true  —  not  true.  Heaven  bless  thee !  — 
thou  art  come !  "  But  sudden  as  the  movement,  was 
the  recoil.  Drawing  herself  back,  she  gazed  steadily 
on  his  face,  and  said,  "  Lord  Hastings,  they  tell  me 
thy  hand  is  another's.      Is  it  true  1  " 

"  Hear  me, "  answered  the  nobleman.  "  When  first 
I  —  " 

"Oh,  God! — oh,  God!  he  answers  not, —  he  falters. 
Speak !     Is  it  true  1  " 

"  It  is  true.      I  am  wedded  to  another." 

Sibyll  did  not  fall  to  the  ground,  nor  faint,  nor  give 
vent  to  noisy  passion.  But  the  rich  color  which  before 
had  been  varying  and  fitful,  deserted  her  cheek,  and  left 


415         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

it  of  an  ashen  whiteness;  the  lips,  too,  grew  tightly- 
compressed,  and  her  small  fingers,  interlaced,  were 
clasped  with  strained  and  convulsive  energy,  so  that 
the  quivering  of  the  very  arms  was  perceptible.  In  all 
else  she  seemed  composed,  as  she  said,  "I  thank  you, 
my  lord,  for  the  simple  truth,  —  no  more  is  needed. 
Heaven  bles.s  you  and  yours!     Farewell!" 

"Stay! — you  shall  —  you  must  hear  me  on.  Thou 
knowest  how  dearly  in  youth  I  loved  Katherine  Nevile. 
In  manhood  the  memory  of  that  love  haunted  me,  but 
beneath  thy  sweet  smile,  I  deemed  it,  at  last,  effaced;  I 
left  thee  to  seek  the  king,  and  demand  his  assent  to  our 
union.  I  speak  not  of  obstacles  that  then  arose  ;  —  in 
the  midst  of  them  I  learned  Katherine  was  lone  and 
widowed,  —  was  free.  At  her  own  summons  I  sought 
her  presence,  and  learned  that  she  had  loved  me  ever, 
—  loved  me  still.  The  intoxication  of  my  early  dream 
returned;  reverse  and  exile  followed  close,  —  Katherine 
left  her  state,  her  fortunes,  her  native  land,  and  fol- 
lowed the  banished  man;  and  so  memory,  and  gratitude, 
and  destiny  concurred,  and  the  mistress  of  my  youth 
became  my  wife.  None  other  could  have  replaced  thy 
image,  —  none  other  have  made  me  forget  the  faith  I 
pledged  thee.  The  thought  of  thee  has  still  pursued 
me,  —  will  pursue  me  to  the  last.  I  dare  not  say  now 
that  I  love  thee  still,  but  yet  — "  He  paused,  but 
rapidly  resumed,  "  Enough,  enough :  dear  art  thou  to 
me,  and  honored,  —  dearer,  more  honored  than  a  sister. 
Thank  Heaven,  at  least,  and  thine  own  virtue,  my 
falsehood  leaves  thee  pure  and  stainless.  Thy  hand 
may  yet  bless  a  worthier  man.  If  our  cause  triumphs, 
thy  fortunes,  thy  father's  fate,  shall  be  my  fondest  care. 
Never  —  never  will  my  sleep  be  sweet,  and  my  con- 
science  laid   to  rest,  till  I  hear  thee  say,  as  honored 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         417 

wife,  —  perchance,  as  blessed  and  blessing  mother, — 
'  False  one,  I  am  happy ! '  " 

A  cold  smile,  at  these  last  words,  flitted  over  the 
girl's  face,  —  the  smile  of  a  broken  heart;  but  it  van- 
ished, and  with  that  strange  mixture  of  sweetness  and 
pride  —  mild  and  forgiving,  yet  still  spirited  and  firm 
—  which  belonged  to  her  character,  she  nerved  herself 
to  the  last  and  saddest  effort  to  preserve  dignity  and 
conceal  despair.  "  Farther  words,  my  lord,  are  idle,  — 
I  am  rightly  punished  for  a  proud  folly.  Let  not 
woman  love  above  her  state.  Think  no  more  of  my 
destiny." 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  the  remorseful  lord;  "thy 
destiny  must  haunt  me  till  thou  hast  chosen  one  with 
a  better  right  to  protect  thee." 

At  the  repetition  of  that  implied  desire  to  transfer 
her  also  to  another,  a  noble  indignation  came  to  mar 
the  calm  for  which  she  had  hitherto  not  vainly  strug- 
gled. "  Oh,  man!  "  she  exclaimed,  with  passion,  "  does 
thy  deceit  give  me  the  right  to  deceive  another  1  I  —  I 
we(j  j  I  —  I  —  vow  at  the  altar  —  a  love  dead,  dead 
forever  —  dead  as  my  own  heart !  Why  dost  thou  mock 
me  with  the  hollow  phrase,  '  Thou  art  pure  and  stain- 
less? '  Is  the  virginity  of  the  soul  still  left?  Do  the 
tears  I  have  shed  for  thee,  doth  the  thrill  of  my  heart 
when  I  heard  thy  voice,  doth  the  plighted  kiss  that 
burns,  burns  now  into  my  brow,  and  on  my  lips,  — do 
these,  these  leave  me  free  to  carry  to  a  new  affection 
the  cinders  and  ashes  of  a  soul  thou  hast  ravished  and 
deflowered  ?  Oh,  coarse  and  rude  belief  of  men,  —  that 
nought  is  lost,  if  the  mere  form  be  pure!  The  freshness 
of  the  first  feelings,  the  bloom  of  the  sinless  thought, 
the  sigh,  the  blush  of  the  devotion,  —  never,  never  felt 
but  once!  these,  these  make  the  true  dower  a  maiden 
vol.  ii.  —  27 


418         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

should  bring  to  the  hearth  to  which  she  comes  as  wife. 
Oh,  taunt!  —  Oh,  insult!  to  speak  to  me  of  happiness, 
of  the  altar!  Thou  never  knewest,  lord,  how  I  really- 
loved  thee!  "  And  for  the  first  time,  a  violent  gush  of 
tears  came  to  relieve  her  heart. 

Hastings  was  almost  equall}*-  overcome.  Well  expe- 
rienced as  he  was  in  those  partings,  when  maids  reproach 
and  gallants  pray  for  pardon,  but  still  sigh  "  Farewell," 

—  he  had  now  no  words  to  answer  that  burst  of  uncon- 
trollable agony,  and  he  felt  at  once  humbled  and 
relieved,  when  Sibyll  again,  with  one  of  those  strug- 
gles which  exhaust  years  of  life,  and  almost  leave  us 
callous  to  all  after-trial,  pressed  back  the  scalding  tears, 
and  said,  with  unnatural  sweetness,  "Pardon  me,  my 
lord,  —  I  meant  not  to  reproach  ;  the  words  escaped  me, 
■ — think  of  them  no  more.  I  would  fain,  at  least,  part 
from  you  now  as  I  had  once  hoped  to  part  from  you  at 
the  last  hour  of  life,  —  without  one  memory  of  bitter- 
ness and  anger,  so  that  my  conscience,  whatever  its 
other  griefs,  might  say,  '  My  lips  never  belied  my  heart, 

—  my  words  never  pained  him!  '  And  now  then,  Lord 
Hastings,  in  all  charity,  we  part.  Farewell,  forever  and 
forever!  Thou  hast  wedded  one  who  loves  thee,  doubt- 
less, as  tenderly  as  I  had  done.  Ah!  cherish  that 
affection!  There  are  times  even  in  thy  career  when  a 
little  love  is  sweeter  than  much  fame.  If  thou  thinkest 
I  have  aught  to  pardon  thee,  now  with  my  whole  heart 
I  pray,  as  while  life  is  mine  that  prayer  shall  be  mur- 
mured, 'Heaven  forgive  this  man,  as  I  do!  Heaven 
make  his  home  the  home  of  peace,  and  breathe  into 
those  now  near  and  dear  to  him,  the  love  and  the  faith 
that  I  once  —  '"  She  stopped,  for  the  words  choked 
her,  and,  hiding  her  face,  held  out  her  hand,  in  sign  of 
charity  and  of  farewell. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  419 

"  Ah!  if  I  dared  pray  like  thee,"  murmured  Hastings, 
pressing  his  lips  upon  that  burning  hand,  "  how  should 
I  weary  Heaven  to  repair,  by  countless  blessings,  the 
wrong  which  I  have  done  thee.  And  Heaven  will  — 
oh,  it  surely  will !  "  —  He  pressed  the  hand  to  his  heart, 
dropped  it,  and  was  gone. 

In  the  court-yard  he  was  accosted  by  Alwyn,  — 

"  Thou  hast  been  frank,  my  lord  ?  " 

"I  have." 

"  And  she  bears  it,  and  —  " 

"See  how  she  forgives,  and  how  I  suffer!"  said 
Hastings,  turning  his  face  towards  his  rival,  and 
Alwyn  saw  that  the  tears  were  rolling  down  his  cheeks, 
—  "Question  me  no  more." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  —  they  quitted  the  precincts 
of  the  Tower,  and  were  at  the  river-side.  Hastings 
waving  his  hand  to  Alwyn,  was  about  to  enter  the  boat 
which  was  to  bear  him  to  the  war-council  assembled  at 
Baynard's  Castle,  when  the  trader  stopped  him,  and 
said  anxiously,  — 

"  Think  you  not,  for  the  present,  the  Tower  is  the 
safest  asylum  for  Sibyll  and  her  father?  If  we  fail  and 
Warwick  returns,  they  are  protected  by  the  earl;  if  we 
triumph,  thou  wilt  insure  their  safety  from  all  foes?  " 

"Surely:  in  either  case,  their  present  home  is  the 
most  secure." 

The  two  men  parted;  and  not  long  afterwards, 
Hastings,  who  led  the  on-guard,  was  on  his  way 
towards  Barnet:  with  him  also  went  the  foot- volun- 
teers under  Alwyn.  The  army  of  York  was  on  its 
march.  Gloucester,  to  whose  vigilance  and  energy 
were  left  the  final  preparations,  was  necessarily  the 
last  of  the  generals  to  quit  the  city.  And  suddenly, 
while  his  steed  was   at  the  gate  of  Baynard's  Castle, 


420  THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS. 

he  entered,  armed  cap-a-pie,  into  the  chamber  where 
the  Duchess  of  Bedford  sat  with  her  grandchildren: 
"Madame,"  said  he,  "I  have  a  grace  to  demand  from 
you,  which  will,  methinks,  not  be  displeasing.  My 
lieutenants  report  to  me  that  an  alarm  has  spread 
amongst  my  men,  —  a  religious  horror  of  some  fearful 
bombards  and  guns  which  have  been  devised  by  a 
sorcerer  in  Lord  Warwick's  pay.  Your  famous  Friar 
Bungey  has  been  piously  amongst  them,  promising, 
however,  that  the  mists  which  now  creep  over  the 
earth  shall  last  through  the  night  and  the  early  morrow ; 
and  if  he  deceive  us  not,  we  may  post  our  men  so  as  to 
elude  the  hostile  artillery.  But,  sith  the  friar  is  so 
noted  and  influential,  and  sith  there  is  a  strong  fancy 
that  the  winds  which  have  driven  back  Margaret,  obeyed 
his  charm,  the  soldiers  clamor  out  for  him,  to  attend 
us,  and,  on  the  very  field  itself,  counteract  the  spells  of 
the  Lancastrian  nigromancer.  The  good  friar,  more 
accustomed  to  fight  with  fiends  than  men,  is  daunted, 
and  resists.  As  much  may  depend  on  his  showing  us 
good  will,  and  making  our  fellows  suppose  we  have 
the  best  of  the  witchcraft,  I  pray  you  to  command 
his  attendance,  and  cheer  up  his  courage.  He  waits 
without." 

"A  most  notable  —  a  most  wise  advice,  beloved 
Richard!"  cried  the  duchess.  "Friar  Bungey  is,  in- 
deed, a  potent  man.  I  will  win  him  at  once  to  your 
will;"  and  the  duchess  hurried  from  the  room. 

The  friar's  bodily  fears,  quieted  at  last  by  assurances 
that  he  should  be  posted  in  a  place  of  perfect  safety  dur- 
ing the  battle,  and  his  avarice  excited  by  promises  of  the 
amplest  rewards,  he  consented  to  accompany  the  troops, 
upon  one  stipulation  :  namely,  that  the  atrocious  wizard, 
who   had  so  often   baffled  his  best  spells,  —  the  very 


THE  LAST   OF  THE  BARONS.  421 

wizard  who  had  superintended  the  accursed  bombards, 
and  predicted  Edward's  previous  defeat  and  flight 
(together  with  the  diabolical  invention  in  which  all 
the  malice  and  strength  of  his  sorcery  were  centred), 
—  might,  according  to  Jacquetta's  former  promise,  be 
delivered  forthwith  to  his  mercy,  and  accompany  him 
to  the  very  spot  where  he  was  to  dispel  and  counter- 
act the  Lancastrian  nigromancer's  enchantments.  The 
duchess,  too  glad  to  purchase  the  friar's  acquiescence 
on  such  cheap  terms,  and  to  whose  superstitious  horror 
for  Adam's  lore  in  the  black  art,  was  now  added  a 
purely  political  motive  for  desiring  him  to  be  made 
away  with,  —  inasmuch  as  in  the  Sanctuary  she  had,  git 
last,  extorted  from  Elizabeth  the  dark  secret  which 
might  make  him  a  very  dangerous  witness  against  the 
interests  and  honor  of  Edward,  —  readily  and  joyfully 
consented  to  this  proposition. 

A  strong  guard  was  at  once  despatched  to  the  Tower 
with  the  friar  himself,  followed  by  a  covered  wagon 
which  was  to  serve  for  conveyance  to  Bungey  and  his 
victim. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Sibyll,  after  remaining  for  some 
time  in  the  chamber  which  Hastings  had  abandoned  to 
her  solitary  woe,  had  passed  to  the  room  in  which  her 
father  held  mute  commune  with  his  Eureka. 

The  machine  was  now  thoroughly  completed,  — 
improved  and  perfected,  to  the  utmost  art  the  inventor 
ever  could  attain.  Thinking  that  the  prejudice  against 
it  might  have  arisen  from  its  uncouth  appearance,  the 
poor  philosopher  had  sought  now  to  give  it  a  gracious 
and  imposing  appearance.  He  had  painted  and  gilt  it 
with  his  own  hands,  —  it  looked  bright  and  gaudy  in  its 
gay  hues;  its  outward  form  was  worthy  of  the  precious 
and  propitious  jewel  which  lay  hidden  in  its  centre. 


422         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

"  See,  child, —  see!  "  said  Adam;  "  is  it  not  beautiful 
and  comely  1  " 

"  My  dear  father,  yes!  "  answered  the  poor  girl,  as 
still  she  sought  to  smile;  then,  after  a  short  silence, 
she  continued,  — "  Father,  of  late,  methinks,  I  have 
too  much  forgotten  thee;  pardon  me,  if  so.  Hence- 
forth, I  have  no  care  in  life  but  thee,  — henceforth  let 
me  ever,  when  thou  toilest,  come  and  sit  by  thy  side. 
I  would  not  be  alone!  —  I  dare  not!  Father,  father! 
God  shield  thy  harmless  life!  I  have  nothing  to  love 
under  heaven  but  thee !  " 

The  good  man  turned  wistfully,  and  raised,  with 
tremulous  hands,  the  sad  face  that  had  pressed  itself 
on  his  bosom.  Gazing  thereon  mournfully,  he  said, 
"  Some  new  grief  hath  chanced  to  thee,  my  child. 
Methought  I  heard  another  voice  besides  thine  in 
yonder  room.      Ah  !  has  Lord  Hastings  —  " 

"  Father,  spare  me!  — thou  wert  too  right;  thou  didst 
judge  too  wisely,  —  Lord  Hastings  is  wedded  to  another  ! 
But  see,  I  can  smile  still,  —  I  am  calm.  My  heart  will 
not  break  so  long  as  it  hath  thee  to  love  and  pray  for !  " 

She  wound  her  arms  round  him  as  she  spoke,  and 
he  roused  himself  from  his  world  out  of  earth  again. 
Though  he  could  bring  no  comfort,  there  was  some- 
thing, at  least,  to  the  forlorn  one,  in  his  words  of  love, 
—  in  his  tears  of  pity. 

They  sat  down  together,  side  by  side,  as  the  evening 
darkened ;  the  Eureka  forgotten  in  the  hour  of  its 
perfection  !  They  noted  not  the  torches  which  flashed 
below,  reddened  at  intervals  the  walls  of  their  chamber, 
and  gave  a  glow  to  the  gay  gilding  and  bright  hues  of 
the  gaudy  model.  Yet  those  torches  flickered  round 
the  litter  that  was  to  convey  Henry  the  Peaceful  to  the 
battle-field,    which  was  to  decide  the  dynasty  of  his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         423 

realm  !  The  torches  vanished,  and  forth  from  the  dark 
fortress  went  the  captive  king. 

Night  succeeded  to  eve,  when  again  the  red  glare 
shot  upward  on  the  Eureka,  playing  with  fantastic 
smile  on  its  quaint  aspect,  steps  and  voices,  and  the 
clatter  of  arms,  sounded  in  the  yard,  on  the  stairs,  in 
the  adjoining  chamber,  —  and  suddenly  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and,  followed  by  some  half-score  soldiers, 
strode  in  the  terrible  friar. 

"  Aha,  Master  Adam  !  who  is  the  greater  nigromancer 
now?  Seize  him!  —  Away!  And  help  you,  Master 
Sergeant,  to  bear  this  piece  of  the  foul  fiend's  cunning 
devising.  Ho,  ho !  see  you  how  it  is  tricked  out  and 
furbished  up, — all  for  the  battle,  I  warrant  ye  !  " 

The  soldiers  had  already  seized  upon  Adam,  who, 
stupefied  by  astonishment  rather  than  fear,  uttered  no 
sound,  and  attempted  no  struggle.  But  it  was  in  vain 
they  sought  to  tear  from  him  Sibyll's  clinging  and 
protecting  arms.  A  supernatural  strength,  inspired  by 
a  kind  of  superstition  that  no  harm  could  chance  to 
him  while  she  was  by,  animated  her  slight  form;  and 
fierce  though  the  soldiers  were,  they  shrank  from  actual 
and  brutal  violence  to  one  thus  young  and  fair.  Those 
small  hands  clung  so  firmly,  that  it  seemed  that  nothing 
but  the  edge  of  the  sword  could  sever  the  child's  clasp 
from  the  father's  neck. 

"Harm  him  not, — harm  him  at  your  peril,  friar!" 
she  cried,  with  flashing  eyes.  "Tear  him  from  me, 
and  if  King  Edward  win  the  day,  Lord  Hastings  shall 
have  thy  life;  if  Lord  Warwick,  thy  days  are  num- 
bered, too.     Beware,  and  avaunt !  " 

The  friar  was  startled.  He  had  forgotten  Lord 
Hastings  in  the  zest  of  his  revenge.  He  feared  that, 
if  Sibyll  were  left  behind,  the  tale  she  might  tell  would 


424         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

indeed  bring  on  him  a  powerful  foe  in  the  daughter's 
lover,  —  on  the  other  hand,  should  Lord  Warwick  get 
the  better,  what  vengeance  would  await  her  appeal  to 
the  great  protector  of  her  father!  He  resolved,  there- 
fore, on  the  instant,  to  take  Sibyll  as  well  as  her  father; 
and  if  the  fortune  of  the  day  allowed  him  to  rid  him- 
self of  Warner,  a  good  occasion  might  equally  occur  to 
dispose  forever  of  the  testimony  of  Sibyll.  He  had 
already  formed  a  cunning  calculation  in  desiring  War- 
ner's company;  for  while,  should  Edward  triumph,  the 
sacrifice  of  the  hated  Warner  was  resolved  upon,  yet, 
should  the  earl  get  the  better,  he  could  make  a  merit 
to  Warner  that  he  (the  friar)  had  not  only  spared,  but 
saved,  his  life,  in  making  him  his  companion.  It  was 
in  harmony  with  this  double  policy  that  the  friar  mildly 
answered  to  Sibyll,  — 

"  Tush,  my  daughter !  Perhaps  if  your  father  be 
true  to  King  Edward,  and  aid  my  skill  instead  of 
obstructing  it,  he  may  be  none  the  worse  for  the  jour- 
ney he  must  take;  and  if  thou  likest  to  go  with  him, 
there  's  room  in  the  vehicle,  and  the  more  the  merrier. 
Harm  them  not,  soldiers,  —  no  doubt  they  will  follow 
quietly." 

As  he  said  this,  the  men,  after  first  crossing  them- 
selves, had  already  hoisted  up  the  Eureka;  and  when 
Adam  saw  it  borne  from  the  room,  he  instinctively  fol- 
lowed the  bearers.  Sibyll,  relieved  by  the  thought  that, 
for  weal  or  for  woe,  she  should  at  least  share  her  father's 
fate,  and  scarce  foreboding  much  positive  danger  from 
the  party  which  contained  Hastings  and  Alwyn,  at- 
tempted no  further  remonstrance. 

The  Eureka  was  placed  in  the  enormous  vehicle, — ■ 
it  served  as  a  barrier  between  the  friar  and  his  prisoners. 

The  friar,  as  soon  as  the  wagon  was  in  motion,  ad- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         425 

dressed  himself  civilly  enough  to  his  fellow-travellers, 
and  assured  them  there  was  nothing  to  fear,  unless 
Adam  thought  fit  to  disturb  his  incantations.  The 
captives  answered  not  his  address,  but  nestled  close  to 
each  other,  interchanging,  at  intervals,  words  of  com- 
fort, and  recoiling  as  far  as  possible  from  the  ex-trege- 
tour,  who,  having  taken  with  him  a  more  congenial 
companion,  in  the  shape  of  a  great  leathern  bottle, 
finally  sank  into  the  silent  and  complacent  doze  which 
usually  rewards  the  libations  to  the  Bromian  god. 

The  vehicle,  with  many  other  baggage-wagons  in  the 
rear  of  the  army,  in  that  memorable  night-march,  moved 
mournfully  on ;  the  night  continued  wrapped  in  fog  and 
mist,  agreeably  to  the  weather-wise  predictions  of  the 
friar;  the  rumbling  groan  of  the  vehicle,  the  tramp  of 
the  soldiers,  the  dull  rattle  of  their  arms,  with  now  and 
then  the  neigh  of  some  knight's  steed  in  the  distance, 
—  were  the  only  sounds  that  broke  the  silence,  till 
once,  as  they  neared  their  destination,  Sibyll  started 
from  her  father's  bosom,  and  shudderingly  thought  she 
recognized  the  hoarse  chant  and  the  tinkling  bells  of 
the  ominous  tymbesteres. 


426  THE  LAST   OF   THE   BABONS. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A  Pause. 

In  the  profound  darkness  of  the  night,  and  the  thick 
fog,  Edward  had  stationed  his  men  at  a  venture  upon 
the  heath  at  Gladsmoor,1  and  hastily  environed  the 
camp  Avith  palisades  and  trenches.  He  had  intended 
to  have  rested  immediately  in  front  of  the  foe,  hut  in 
the  darkness  mistook  the  extent  of  the  hostile  line,  and 
his  men  were  ranged  only  opposite  to  the  left  side  of 
the  earl's  force  (towards  Hadley),  leaving  the  right 
unopposed.  Most  fortunate  for  Edward  was  this  mis- 
take; for  Warwick's  artillery,  and  the  new  and  deadly 
bombards  he  had  constructed,  were  placed  in  the  right 
of  the  earl's  army;  and  the  provident  earl,  naturally 
supposing  Edward's  left  was  there  opposed  to  him, 
ordered  his  gunners  to  cannonade  all  night.  Edward, 
"  as  the  flashes  of  the  guns  illumined  by  fits  the  gloom 
of  midnight,  saw  the  advantage  of  his  unintentional 
error;  and  to  prevent  Warwick  from  discovering  it, 
reiterated  his  orders  for  the  most  profound  silence."2 
Thus  even  his  very  blunders  favored  Edward  more  than 
the  wisest  precautions  had  served  his  fated  foe. 

Eaw,  cold,  and  dismal,  dawned  the  morning  of  the 
fourteenth  of  April,  the  Easter  Sabbath.  In  the  for- 
tunes of  that  day  were  involved  those  of  all  the  persons 
who  hitherto,  in  the  course  of  this  narrative,  may  have 
seemed  to  move  in  separate  orbits  from  the  fiery  star  of 

1  Edward  "  had  the  greater  number  of  men."  —  Hall,  p.  296. 

2  Sharon  Turner. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAEOXS.         427 

Warwick.  Now,  in  this  crowning  hour,  the  vast  and 
gigantic  destiny  of  the  great  earl  comprehended  all  upon 
which  its  darkness  or  its  light  had  fallen:  not  only  the 
luxurious  Edward,  the  perjured  Clarence,  the  haughty 
Margaret,  her  gallant  son,  the  gentle  Anne,  the  remorse- 
ful Isabel,  the  dark  guile  of  Gloucester,  the  rising 
fortunes  of  the  gifted  Hastings,  —  but  on  the  hazard 
of  that  die  rested  the  hopes  of  Hilyard,  and  the  inter- 
ests of  the  trader  Alwyn,  and  the  permanence  of  that 
frank,  chivalric,  hardy,  still  half  Norman  race,  of  which 
Nicholas  Alwyn  and  his  Saxon  class  were  the  rival 
antagonistic  principle,  and  Marmaduke  Nevile  the  ordi- 
nary type.  Dragged  inexorably  into  the  whirlpool  of 
that  mighty  fate,  were  even  the  very  lives  of  the  simple 
scholar,  —  of  his  obscure  and  devoted  child.  Here,  into 
this  gory  ocean,  all  scattered  rivulets  and  streams  had 
hastened  to  merge  at  last. 

But  grander  and  more  awful  than  all  individual 
interests  were  those  assigned  to  the  fortunes  of  this 
battle,  so  memorable  in  the  English  annals:  the  ruin 
or  triumph  of  a  dynasty;  the  fall  of  that  warlike  bar- 
onage, of  which  Richard  Nevile  was  the  personation, 
the  crowning  flower,  the  greatest  representative  and  the 
last;  associated  with  memories  of  turbulence  and  excess, 
it  is  true,  but  with  the  proudest  and  grandest  achieve- 
ments in  our  early  history,  —  with  all  such  liberty  as 
had  been  yet  achieved  since  the  Norman  Conquest; 
with  all  such  glory  as  had  made  the  island  famous: 
here  with  Runnymede,  and  there  with  Cressy!  —  the 
rise  of  a  crafty,  plotting,  imperious  Despotism,  based 
upon  the  growing  sympathy  of  craftsmen  and  traders, 
and  ripening  on  the  one  hand  to  the  Tudor  tyranny, 
the  Republican  reaction  under  the  Stuarts,  the  slavery, 
and   the  civil   war,  —  but,  on  the   other  hand,  to  the 


428  THE   LA.ST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

concentration  of  all  the  vigor  and  life  of  genius  into 
a  single  and  strong  government,  the  graces,  the  arts,  the 
letters  of  a  polished  court,  the  freedom,  the  energy,  the 
resources  of  a  commercial  population  destined  to  rise 
above  the  tyranny  at  which  it  had  first  connived,  and 
give  to  the  emancipated  Saxon  the  markets  of  the  world. 
Upon  the  victory  of  that  day,  all  these  contending 
interests  —  this  vast  alternative  in  the  future  —  swayed 
and  trembled.  Out,  then,  upon  that  vulgar  craving  of 
those  who  comprehend  neither  the  vast  truths  of  life 
nor  the  grandeur  of  ideal  art,  and  who  ask  from  poet 
or  narrator  the  poor  and  petty  morality  of  "  Poetical 
Justice,"  —  a  justice  existing  not  in  our  work-day 
world;  a  justice  existing  not  in  the  sombre  page  of 
history ;  a  justice  existing  not  in  the  loftier  concep- 
tions of  men  whose  genius  has  grappled  with  the  enig- 
mas which  art  and  poetry  only  can  foreshadow  and 
divine:  —  unknown  to  us  in  the  street  and  the  market; 
unknown  to  us  on  the  scaffold  of  the  patriot,  or  amidst 
the  flames  of  the  martyr;  unknown  to  us  in  the  Lear 
and  the  Hamlet,  in  the  Agamemnon  and  the  Prome- 
theus. Millions  upon  millions,  ages  upon  ages,  are 
entered  but  as  items  in  the  vast  account  in  which  the 
recording  angel  sums  up  the  unerring  justice  of  God 
to  man. 

Raw,  cold,  and  dismal,  dawned  the  morning  of  the 
fourteenth  of  April.  And  on  that  very  day  Margaret 
and  her  son,  and  the  wife  and  daughter  of  Lord  War- 
wick, landed,  at  last,  on  the  shores  of  England.1  Come 
they  for  joy,  or  for  woe,  — for  victory,  or  despair?  The 
issue  of  this  day's  fight  on  the  heath  of  Gladsmoor  will 
decide.     Prank  thy  halls,   O  Westminster,  for  the  tri- 

1  Margaret  landed  at  Weymouth,  —  Lady  Warwick,  at  Ports- 
mouth. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  429 

umph  of  the  Lancastrian  king,  —  or  open  thou,  0  Grave, 
to  receive  the  saint-like  Henry  and  his  noble  son  !  The 
king-maker  goes  before  ye,  saint-like  father  and  noble 
son,  to  prepare  your  thrones  amongst  the  living,  or  your 
mansions  amongst  the  dead  ! 


430  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Battle. 

Raw,    cold,    and  dismal,    dawned  the    morning   of   the 
fourteenth  of  April.      The  heavy  mist  still  covered  both 
armies,  but  their  hum  and  stir  was  already  heard  through 
the  gloaming, —  the  neighing  of  steeds,  and  the  clangor 
of  mail.      Occasionally  a  movement  of  either  force  made 
dim    form,    seeming    gigantic  through  the   vapor,    indis- 
tinctly  visible    to  the  antagonist  army;   and  there   was 
something   ghastly    and    unearthlike    in    these    ominous 
shapes,   suddenly  seen,   and  suddenly  vanishing,   amidst 
the  sullen  atmosphere.     By  this  time,  Warwick  had  dis- 
covered the  mistake  of  his  gunners ;  for,  to  the  right  of 
the  earl,  the  silence  of  the  Yorkists  was  still  unbroken, 
while  abruptly,  from  the  thick  gloom  to  the  left,  broke 
the  hoarse  mutter  and  low  growl  of  the  awakening  war. 
Not  a  moment  was  lost  by  the  earl  in  repairing  the  error 
of  the  night :  his  artillery  wheeled  rapidly  from  the  right 
wing,  and,  sudden  as  a  storm  of  lightning,  the  fire  from 
the   cannon  flashed  through  the  dun  and  heavy  vapor; 
and  not  far  from  the  very  spot  where  Hastings  was  mar- 
shalling the  wing  intrusted  to    his    command,    made    a 
deep  chasm  in  the  serried  ranks.     Death  had  begun  his 
feast ! 

At  that  moment,  however,  from  the  centre  of  the 
Yorkist  army,  arose,  scarcely  drowned  by  the  explosion, 
that  deep-toned  shout  of  enthusiasm,  which  he  who  has 
once  heard  it,  coming,  as  it  were,  from  the  one  heart  of 
an  armed  multitude,   will  ever  recall  as  the  most  kin- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         431 

dling  and  glorious  sound  which  ever  quickened  the  pulse 
and  thrilled  the  blood, —  for  along  that  part  of  the  army 
now  rode  King  Edward.  His  mail  was  polished  as  a 
mirror,  but  otherwise  unadorned,  resembling  that  which 
now  invests  his  effigies  at  the  Tower; x  and  the  housings 
of  his  steed  were  spangled  with  silver  suns,  for  the 
silver  sun  was  the  cognizance  on  all  his  banners.  His 
head  was  bare,  and  through  the  hazy  atmosphere  the 
gold  of  his  rich  locks  seemed  literally  to  shine.  Fol- 
lowed by  his  body  squire,  with  his  helm  and  lance,  and 
the  lords  in  his  immediate  staff,  his  truncheon  in  his 
hand,  he  passed  slowly  along  the  steady  line,  till,  halt- 
ing where  he  deemed  his  voice  could  be  farthest  heard, 
he  reined  in,  and  lifting  his  hand,  the  shout  of  the 
soldiery  was  hushed, —  though  still,  while  he  spoke, 
from  Warwick's  archers  came  the  arrowy  shower,  and 
still  the  gloom  was  pierced  and  the  hush  interrupted  by 
the  flash  and  the  roar  of  the  bombards. 

"  Englishmen  and  friends, "  said  the  martial  chief, 
"  to  bold  deeds  go  but  few  words.  Before  you  is  the 
foe  !  From  Ravenspur  to  London  I  have  marched,  — 
treason  flying  from  my  sword,  loyalty  gathering  to  my 
standard.  With  but  two  thousand  men,  on  the  four- 
teenth of  March,  I  entered  England, —  on  the  fourteenth 
of  April,  fifty  thousand  is  my  muster-roll.  Who  shall 
say,  then,  that  I  am  not  king,  when  one  month  mans 
a  monarch's  army  from  his  subjects'  love?  And  well 
know  ye,  now,  that  my  cause  is  yours  and  England's! 
Those  against  us  are  men  who  would  rule  in  despite 
of  law, —  barons  whom  I  gorged  with  favors,  and  who 

1  The  suit  of  armor,  however,  which  the  visitor  to  the  Koyal 
Armory  is  expected  to  believe  King  Edward  could  have  woru,  is 
infinitely  too  small  for  such  credulity.  Edward's  height  was  six 
feet  two  inches. 


432         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

would  reduce  this  fair  realm  of  King,  Lords,  and  Com- 
mons, to  be  the  appanage  and  property  of  one  man's 
measureless  ambition :  the  park,  forsooth,  the  homestead 
to  Lord  Warwick's  private  house  !  Ye  gentlemen  and 
knights  of  England,  let  them  and  their  rabble  prosper, 
and  your  properties  will  be  despoiled,  your  lives  insecure, 
all  law  struck  dead.  What  differs  Richard  of  Warwick 
from  Jack  Cade,  save  that  if  his  name  is  nobler,  so  is 
his  treason  greater  ?  Commoners  and  soldiers  of  England, 
. —  freemen,  however  humble, —  what  do  these  rebel  lords 
(who  would  rule  in  the  name  of  Lancaster)  desire  1  To 
reduce  you  to  villeins  and  to  bondsmen,  as  your  fore- 
fathers were  to  them.  Ye  owe  freedom  from  the  barons 
to  the  just  laws  of  my  sires,  your  kings.  Gentlemen 
and  knights,  commoners  and  soldiers,  Edward  IV.  upon 
his  throne  will  not  profit  by  a  victory  more  than  you. 
This  is  no  war  of  dainty  chivalry, —  it  is  a  war  of  true 
men  against  false.  No  quarter !  Spare  not  either  knight 
or  hilding.  Warwick,  forsooth,  will  not  smite  the  com- 
mons. Truly  not,  —  the  rabble  are  his  friends.  I  say 
to  you  —  "  and  Edward,  pausing  in  the  excitement  and 
sanguinary  fury  of  his  tiger  nature,  the  soldiers,  heated 
like  himself  to  the  thirst  of  blood,  saw  his  eyes  sparkle, 
and  his  teeth  gnash,  as  he  added  in  a  deeper  and  loAver, 
but  not  less  audible  voice,  —  "I  say  to  you,  slay  all  ! x 
What  heel  spares  the  viper's  brood  1  " 

"  We  will,  we  will !  "  was  the  horrid  answer,  which 
came  hissing  and  muttered  forth  from  morion  and  cap  of 
steel. 

"  Hark  !  to  their  bombards  !  "  resumed  Edward. 
"  The  enemy  would  fight  from  afar,  for  they  excel  us 
in  their  archers  and  gunners.  Upon  them,  then, —  hand 
to  hand,  and  man  to  man!     Advance  banners, —  sound 

i  Hall. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         433 

trumpets !  Sir  Oliver,  my  bassinet !  Soldiers,  if  my 
standard  falls,  look  for  the  plume  upon  your  king's 
helmet !     Charge !  " 

Then,  with  a  shout  wilder  and  louder  than  before,  on 
through  the  hail  of  the  arrows, —  on  through  the  glare  of 
the  bombards,  —  rather  with  a  rush  than  in  a  march ,  ad- 
vanced Edward's  centre  against  the  array  of  Somerset. 
But  from  a  part  of  the  encampment  where  the  circum- 
vallation  seemed  strongest,  a  small  body  of  men  moved 
not  with  the  general  body. 

To  the  left  of  the  churchyard  of  Hadley,  at  this  day, 
the  visitor  may  notice  a  low  wall;  on  the  other  side  of 
that  wall  is  a  garden,  then  but  a  rude  eminence  on 
Gladsmoor  Heath.  On  that  spot  a  troop  in  complete 
armor,  upon  destriers  pawing  impatiently,  surrounded 
a  man  upon  a  sorry  palfrey,  and  in  a  gown  of  blue, — 
the  color  of  royalty  and  of  servitude,  —  that  man  was 
Henry  VI.  In  the  same  space  stood  Friar  Bungey,  his 
foot  on  the  Eureka,  muttering  incantations,  that  the 
mists  he  had  foretold,1  and  which  had  protected  the 
Yorkists  from  the  midnight  guns,  might  yet  last,  to 
the  confusion  of  the  foe.  And  near  him,  under  a  gaunt, 
leafless  tree,  a  rope  round  his  neck,  was  Adam  "Warner : 
Sibyll,  still  faithful  to  his  side,  nor  shuddering  at  the 
arrows  and  the  guns,  —  her  whole  fear  concentrated 
upon  the  sole  life  for  which  her  own  was  prized.  Upon 
this  eminence,  then,  these  lookers-on  stood  aloof.      And 

1  Lest  the  reader  should  suppose  that  the  importance  of  Friar 
Bungey  upon  this  bloody  da}'  has  been  exaggerated  by  the  nar- 
rator, we  must  cite  the  testimony  of  sober  Alderman  Fabyan :  — 
"  Of  the  mists  and  other  impediments  which  fell  upon  the  Lords' 
party,  by  reason  of  the  incantations  wrought  by  Friar  Bungey,  as 
the  fain  a  went,  me  list  not  to  write." 
vol.  ii.  —  28 


434         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS. 

the  meek  ears  of  Henry  heard  through  the  fog  the  inex- 
plicahle,  sullen,  jarring  clash,  —  steel  had  met  steel. 

"Holy  father!"  exclaimed  the  kingly  saint,  "and 
this  is  the  Easter  Sabbath,  thy  most  solemn  day  of 
peace !  " 

"  Be  silent, "  thundered  the  friar,  "  thou  disturhest  my 
spells.  Barabbarara  —  Santhinoa  —  Foggib us  incescebo 
—  confusio  inimiois  —  Garabbora,  vapor  et  mistes  I  " 

We  must  now  rapidly  survey  the  dispositions  of  the 
army  under  Warwick.  In  the  right  wing  the  command 
was  intrusted  to  the  Earl  of  Oxford  and  the  Marquis  of 
Montagu.  The  former,  who  led  the  cavalry  of  that 
division,  was  stationed  in  the  van;  the  latter,  according 
to  his  usual  habit, —  surrounded  by  a  strong  body-guard 
of  knights,  and  a  prodigious  number  of  squires  as  aides- 
de-camp, —  remained  at  the  rear,  and  directed  thence  by 
his  orders,  the  general  movement !  In  this  wing  the 
greater  number  were  Lancastrian,  jealous  of  Warwick, 
and  only  consenting  to  the  generalship  of  Montagu,  be- 
cause shared  by  their  favorite  hero,  Oxford.  In  the 
mid-space  lay  the  chief  strength  of  the  bowmen,  with  a 
goodly  number  of  pikes  and  bills,  under  the  Duke  of 
Somerset;  and  this  division  also  was  principally  Lancas- 
trian, and  shared  the  jealousy  of  Oxford's  soldiery.  The 
left  wing,  composed  for  the  most  part  of  Warwick's  yeo- 
manry and  retainers,  was  commanded  by  the  Duke  of 
Exeter,  conjointly  with  the  earl  himself.  Both  armies 
kept  a  considerable  body  in  reserve,  and  Warwick,  be- 
sides this  resource,  had  selected  from  his  own  retainers 
a  band  of  picked  archers,  whom  he  had  skilfully  placed 
in  the  outskirts  of  a  wood  that  then  stretched  from 
Wrotham  Park  to  the  column  that  now  commemorates 
the  battle  of  Barnet,  on  the  high  northern  road.  He 
had  guarded  these  last-mentioned  archers  (where  exposed 


THE   LAST   OF   THE    BARONS.  435 

in  front  to  Edward's  horsemen)  by  strong  tall  barricades, 
leaving  only  such  an  opening  as  would  allow  one  horse- 
man at  a  time  to  pass,  and  defending  by  a  formidable 
line  of  pikes  this  narrow  opening  left  for  communication, 
and  to  admit  to  a  place  of  refuge  in  case  of  need.  These 
dispositions  made,  and  ere  yet  Edward  had  advanced  on 
Somerset,  the  earl  rode  to  the  front  of  the  wing  under 
his  special  command,  and,  agreeably  to  the  custom  of 
the  time,  observed  by  his  royal  foe,  harangued  the  troops. 
Here  were  placed  those  who  loved  him  as  a  father,  and 
venerated  him  as  something  superior  to  mortal  man,  — 
here  the  retainers,  who  had  grown  up  with  him  from  his 
childhood;  who  had  followed  him  to  his  first  fields  of 
war;  who  had  lived  under  the  shelter  of  his  many  cas- 
tles, and  fed,  in  that  rude  equality  of  a  more  primeval 
age,  which  he  loved  still  to  maintain,  at  his  lavish  board. 
And  now  Lord  Warwick's  coal-black  steed  halted,  mo- 
tionless, in  the  van.  His  squire  behind  bore  his  helmet, 
overshadowed  by  the  eagle  of  Monthermer,  the  out- 
stretched wings  of  which  spread  wide  into  sable  plumes: 
and  as  the  earl's  noble  face  turned  full  and  calm  upon 
the  bristling  lines,  there  arose  not  the  vulgar  uproar  that 
greeted  the  aspect  of  the  young  Edward.  By  one  of 
those  strange  sympathies  which  pass  through  multitudes, 
and  seize  them  with  a  common  feeling,  the  whole  body 
of  those  adoring  vassals  became  suddenly  aware  of  the 
change  which  a  year  had  made  in  the  face  of  their  chief 
and  father.  They  saw  the  gray  flakes  in  his  Jove-like 
curls, —  the  furrows  in  that  lofty  brow,  the  hollows  in 
that  bronzed  and  manly  visage,  which  had  seemed  to 
their  rude  admiration  to  wear  the  stamp  of  the  two-fold 
Divinity,  —  Beneficence  and  Valor.  A  thrill  of  tender- 
ness and  awe  shot  through  the  veins  of  every  one,  — > 
tears  of  devotion  rushed  into  many  a  hardy  eye.     No, — > 


436         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

there  was  not  the  ruthless  captain  addressing  his  hireling 
butchers ;  it  was  the  chief  and  father  rallying  gratitude, 
and  love,  and  reverence,  to  the  crisis  of  his  stormy  fate. 

"  My  friends,  my  followers,  and  my  children, "  said 
the  earl,  "  the  field  we  have  entered  is  one  from  which 
there  is  no  retreat;  here  must  your  leader  conquer,  or 
here  die.  It  is  not  a  parchment  pedigree,  —  it  is  not  a 
name,  derived  from  the  ashes  of  dead  men,  that  make 
the  only  charter  of  a  king.  We  Englishmen  were  but 
slaves,  if,  in  giving  crown  and  sceptre  to  a  mortal  like 
ourselves,  we  asked  not  in  return  the  kingly  virtues. 
Beset  of  old  by  evil  counsellors,  the  reign  of  Henry  VI. 
was  obscured,  and  the  weal  of  the  realm  endangered. 
Mine  own  wrongs  seemed  to  me  great,  but  the  dis- 
asters of  my  country  not  less.  I  deemed  that  in  the 
race  of  York,  England  would  know  a  wiser  and  happier 
rule.  What  was,  in  this,  mine  error,  ye  partly  know. 
A  prince  dissolved  in  luxurious  vices,  a  nobility  degraded 
by  minions  and  bloodsuckers,  a  people  plundered  by 
purveyors,  and  a  land  disturbed  by  brawl  and  riot. 
But  ye  know  not  all:  God  makes  man's  hearth  man's 
altar,  —  our  hearths  were  polluted,  our  wives  and  daughters 
were  viewed  as  harlots,  and  lechery  ruled  the  realm.  A 
king's  word  should  be  fast  as  the  pillars  of  the  world. 
What  man  ever  trusted  Edward  and  was  not  deceived  1 
Even  now  the  unknightly  liar  stands  in  arms  with  the 
weight  of  perjury  on  his  soul.  In  his  father's  town  of 
York,  ye  know  that  he  took,  three  short  weeks  since, 
solemn  oath  of  fealty  to  King  Henry.  And  now  King 
Henry  is  his  captive,  and  King  Henry's  holy  crown  upon 
his  traitor's  head,  —  '  traitors  '  calls  he  Us  ?  What  name, 
then,  rank  enough  for  him  1  Edward  gave  the  promise 
of  a  brave  man,  and  I  served  him.  He  proved  a  base,  a 
false,  a  licentious,  and  a  cruel  king,  and  I  forsook  him : 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         437 

may  all  free  hearts  in  all  free  lands  so  serve  kings  when 
they  become  tyrants!  Ye  fight  against  a  cruel  and  a 
tortious  usurper,  whose  bold  hand  cannot  sanctify  a  black 
heart, —  ye  fight  not  only  for  King  Henry,  the  meek  and 
the  godly ;  ye  fight  not  for  him  alone,  but  for  his  young 
and  princely  son,  the  grandchild  of  Henry  of  Agincourt, 
who,  old  men  tell  me,  has  that  hero's  face,  and  who, 
I  know,  has  that  hero's  frank  and  royal  and  noble  soul ; 
ye  fight  for  the  freedom  of  your  land,  for  the  honor  of 
your  women,  for  what  is  better  than  any  king's  cause,  — 
for  justice  and  mercy ;  for  truth  and  manhood's  virtues 
against  corruption  in  the  laws,  slaughter  by  the  scaffold, 
falsehood  in  a  ruler's  lips,  and  shameless  harlotry  in  the 
councils  of  ruthless  power.  The  order  I  have  ever 
given  in  Avar,  I  give  now :  we  war  against  the  leaders  of 
evil,  not  against  the  hapless  tools,  —  we  war  against  our 
oppressors,  not  against  our  misguided  brethren.  Strike 
down  every  plumed  crest,  but  when  the  strife  is  over, 
spare  every  common  man !  Hark !  while  I  speak,  I 
hear  the  march  of  your  foe  !  Up  standards  !  —  blow 
trumpets !  And  now,  as  I  brace  my  bassinet,  may  God 
grant  us  all  a  glorious  victory,  or  a  glorious  grave.  On, 
my  merry  men !  show  these  London  loons  the  stout 
hearts  of  Warwickshire  and  Yorkshire.  On,  my  merry 
men  !     A  Warwick  !  a  Warwick  !  " 

As  he  ended,  he  swung  lightly  over  his  head  the 
terrible  battle-axe  which  had  smitten  down,  as  the  grass 
before  the  reaper,  the  chivalry  of  many  a  field;  and  ere 
the  last  blast  of  the  trumpets  died,  the  troops  of  War- 
wick and  of  Gloucester  met,  and  mingled  hand  to  hand. 

Although  the  earl  had,  on  discovering  the  position 
of  the  enemy,  moved  some  of  his  artillery  from  his 
right  wing,  yet  there  still  lay  the  great  number  and 
strength  of  his  force.     And  there,   therefore,   Montagu, 


438         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

rolling  troop  on  troop  to  the  aid  of  Oxford,  pressed  so 
overpoweringly,  upon  the  soldiers  under  Hastings,  that 
the  battle  very  soon  wore  a  most  unfavorable  aspect 
for  the  Yorkists.  It  seemed,  indeed,  that  the  success 
which  had  always  hitherto  attended  the  military  move- 
ments of  Montagu,  was  destined  for  a  crowning  triumph. 
Stationed,  as  we  have  said,  in  the  rear,  with  his  light- 
armed  squires,  upon  fleet  steeds,  around  him,  he  moved 
the  springs  of  the  battle  with  the  calm  sagacity  which  at 
that  moment  no  chief  in  either  army  possessed.  Hast- 
ings was  thoroughly  outflanked,  and  though  his  men 
fought  with  great  valor,  they  could  not  resist  the  weight 
of  superior  numbers. 

In  the  midst  of  the  carnage  in  the  centre,  Edward 
reined  in  his  steed,  as  he  heard  the  cry  of  victory  in 
the   gale. 

"  By  Heaven  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  our  men  at  the  left 
are  cravens, —  they  fly!  they  fly!  —  Ride  to  Lord  Hast- 
ings, Sir  Humphrey  Bourchier,  bid  him  defile  hither 
what  men  are  left  him;  and  now,  ere  our  felloAvs  are 
well  aware  what  hath  chanced  yonder,  charge  we, 
knights  and  gentlemen,  on,  on !  —  break  Somerset's 
line;  on,  on,  to  the  heart  of  the  rebel  earl!" 

Then,  visor  closed,  lance  in  rest,  Edward  and  his 
cavalry  dashed  through  the  archers  and  billmen  of 
Somerset;  clad  in  complete  mail,  impervious  to  the 
weapons  of  the  infantry,  they  slaughtered  as  they  rode, 
and  their  way  was  marked  by  corpses  and  streams  of 
blood.  Fiercest  and  fellest  of  all,  was  Edward  himself : 
when  his  lance  shivered,  and  he  drew  his  knotty  mace 
from  its  sling  by  his  saddle-bow,  woe  to  all  who  at- 
tempted to  stop  his  path.  Vain  alike  steel  helmet  or 
leathern  cap,  jerkin  or  coat-of-mail.  In  vain  Somerset 
threw  himself  into  the  melee.     The  instant  Edward  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         439 

his  cavalry  had  made  a  patli  through  the  lines  for  his  foot 
soldiery,  the  fortunes  of  the  day  were  half  retrieved. 
It  was  no  rapid  passage,  pierced  and  reclosed,  that  he 
desired  to  effect,  it  was  the  wedge  in  the  oak  of  war. 
There,  rooted  in  the  very  midst  of  Somerset's  troops, 
doubling  on  each  side,  passing  on  but  to  return  again, 
where  helm  could  be  crashed  and  man  overthrown,  the 
mighty  strength  of  Edward  widened  the  breach  more 
and  more,  till  faster  and  faster  poured  in  his  bands, 
and  the  centre  of  Warwick's  army  seemed  to  reel  and 
whirl  round  the  broadening  gap  through  its  ranks, — 
as  the  waves  round  some  chasm  in  a  maelstrom. 

But,  in  the  interval,  the  hard-pressed  troops  com- 
manded by  Hastings  were  scattered  and  dispersed; 
driven  from  the  field,  they  fled  in  numbers  through  the 
town  of  Barnet;  many  halted  not  till  they  reached 
London,  where  they  spread  the  news  of  the  earl's  vic- 
tory and  Edward's  ruin.1 

Through  the  mist,  Eriar  Bungey  discerned  the  fugi- 
tive Yorkists  under  Hastings,  and  heard  their  cries  of 
despair:  through  the  mist,  Sibyll  saw,  close  beneath 
the  intrenchments  which  protected  the  space  on  which 
they  stood,  an  armed  horseman  with  the  well-known 
crest  of  Hastings  on  his  helmet,  and,  with  lifted  visor, 
calling  his  men  to  the  return,  in  the  loud  voice  of  rage 
and  scorn.  And  then,  she  herself  sprang  forwards, 
and,  forgetting  his  past  cruelty  in  his  present  danger, 
cried  his  name, — weak  cry,  lost  in  the  roar  of  war! 
But  the  friar,  now  fearing  he  had  taken  the  wrong 
side,  began  to  turn  from  his  spells,  to  address  the  most 
abject  apologies  to  Adam,  to  assure  him  that  he  would 
have  been  slaughtered  at  the  Tower,  but  for  the  friar's 
interruption;  and   that    the    rope    round   his   neck    was 

1  Sharon  Turner. 


440  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAllONS. 

but  an  insignificant  ceremony  due  to  the  prejudices  of 
the  soldiers.  "  Alas,  Great  Man, "  he  concluded,  "  I 
see  still  that  thou  art  mightier  than  I  am ;  thy  charms, 
though  silent,  are  more  potent  than  mine,  though  my 
lungs  crack  beneath  them!  Confusio  Lilmicis  Tara- 
lorolu  —  I  mean  no  harm  to  the  earl  —  Garrabora, 
mistes  et  nubes  ;  —  Lord,  what  will  become  of  me  !  " 

Meanwhile  Hastings,  with  a  small  body  of  horse, 
who,  being  composed  of  knights  and  squires  specially 
singled  out  for  the  sword,  fought  with  the  pride  of 
disdainful  gentlemen  and  the  fury  of  desperate  soldiers, 
finding  it  impossible  to  lure  back  the  fugitives,  hewed 
their  own  way  through  Oxford's  ranks,  to  the  centre, 
where  they  brought  fresh  aid  to  the  terrible  arm  of 
Edward. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BAKONS.  441 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Battle. 

The  mist  still  continued  so  thick  that  Montagu  was 
unable  to  discern  the  general  prospects  of  the  field. 
But,  calm  and  resolute  in  his  post,  amidst  the  arrows 
which  whirled  round  him,  and  often  struck,  blunted, 
against  his  Milan  mail,  the  marquis  received  the  reports 
of  his  aides-de-camp  (may  that  modern  word  be  par- 
doned?) as  one  after  one  they  emerged  through  the 
fog  to  his  side. 

"  Well, "  he  said,  as  one  of  these  messengers  now 
spurred  to  the  spot,  "  we  have  beaten  off  Hastings  and 
his  hirelings;  but  I  see  not  'the  Silver  Star'  of  Lord 
Oxford's  banner. "  1 

"  Lord  Oxford,  my  lord,  has  followed  the  enemy  he 
routed  to  the  farthest  verge  of  the  heath." 

"  Saints  help  us !  Is  Oxford  thus  headstrong  ?  He 
will  ruin  all  if  he  be  decoyed  from  the  field!  Ride 
back,  sir!  Yet  —  hold!"  —  as  another  of  the  aides-de- 
camp appeared.  "  What  news  from  Lord  Warwick's 
wing  ? " 

"  Sore  beset,  bold  marquis.  Gloucester's  line  seems 
countless;  it  already  outflanks  the  earl.  The  duke 
himself  seems  inspired  by  hell!  Twice  has  his  slight 
arm  braved  even  the  earl's  battle-axe,  which  spared 
the  boy  but  smote  to  the  dust  his  comrades !  " 

1  The  Silver  Star  of  the  De  Veres  had  its  origin  in  a  tradition 
that  one  of  their  ancestors,  whew  fighting  in  the  Holy  Land,  saw  a 
falling  star  descend  upon  his  shield.  Fatal  to  men,  nobler  even 
than  the  De  Veres,  was  that  silver  falling  star. 


442         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

"  Well,  and  what  of  the  centre,  sir  1 "  as  a  third 
form  now  arrived. 

"  There,  rages  Edward  in  person.  He  hath  pierced 
into  the  midst.     But  Somerset  still  holds  on  gallantly !  " 

Montagu  turned  to  the  first  aide-de-camp. 

"  Ride,  sir !  Quick  !  This  to  Oxford,  —  no  pursuit ! 
Bid  him  haste,  with  all  his  men,  to  the  left  wing,  and 
smite  Gloucester  in  the  rear.  Bide,  ride, —  for  life  and 
victory!     If  he  come  but  in  time,  the  day  is  ours!  "  1 

The  aide-de-camp  darted  off,  and  the  mist  swallowed 
up  horse  and  horseman. 

"  Sound  trumpets  to  the  return !  "  said  the  marquis ; 
then,  after  a  moment's  musing, —  "though  Oxford  hath 
drawn  off  our  main  force  of  cavalry,  we  have  still  some 
stout  lances  left;  and  Warwick  must  be  strengthened. 
On  to  the  earl !  La  issez  aller !  A  Montagu !  a  Mon- 
tagu !  "  And,  lance  in  rest,  the  marquis  and  the  knights 
immediately  around  him,  and  hitherto  not  personally 
engaged,  descended  the  hillock  at  a  hand  gallop,  and 
were  met  by  a  troop  outnumbering  their  own,  and  com- 
manded by  the  Lords  D'Eyncourt  and  Say. 

At  this  time,  Warwick  was  indeed  in  the  same 
danger  that  had  routed  the  troops  of  Hastings;  for, 
by  a  similar  position,  the  strength  of  the  hostile  num- 
bers being  arrayed  with  Gloucester,  the  duke's  troops 
had  almost  entirely  surrounded  him.2  And  Gloucester 
himself  wondrously  approved  the  trust  that  had  con- 
signed to  his  stripling  arm  the  flower  of  the  Yorkist 
army.  Through  the  mists,  the  blood-red  manteline 
he  wore  over  his  mail,  the  grinning  teeth  of  the  boar's 
head  which  crested  his  helmet,  flashed  and  gleamed 
wherever  his  presence  was  most  needed  to  encourage 
the  nagging  or  spur  on  the  fierce.     And  there  seemed 

1  Fabtan.  2    Sharon  Turner. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         443 

to  both  armies  something  ghastly  and  preternatural  in 
the  savage  strength  of  this  small,  slight  figure  thus 
startlingly  caparisoned,  and  which  was  heard  evermore 
uttering  its  sharp  war-cry,  "  Gloucester,  to  the  onslaught ! 
Down  with  the  rebels,  down!  " 

Nor  did  this  daring  personage  disdain,  in  the  midst 
of  his  fury,  to  increase  the  effect  of  valor  by  the  art 
of  a  brain  that  never  ceased  to  scheme  on  the  follies  of 
mankind.  "  See !  see !  "  he  cried,  as  he  shot  meteor- 
like from  rank  to  rank.  "See, —  these  are  no  natural 
vapors!  Yonder  the  mighty  friar,  who  delayed  the 
sails  of  Margaret,  chants  his  spells  to  the  powers  that 
ride  the  gale.  Fear  not  the  bombards,  —  their  enchanted 
balls  swerve  from  the  brave!  The  dark  legions  of  air 
fight  for  us !  For  the  hour  is  come  when  the  fiend  shall 
rend  his  prey !  "  And  fiendlike  seemed  the  form  thus 
screeching  forth  its  predictions  from  under  the  grim 
head-gear,  and  then  darting  and  disappearing  amidst 
the  sea  of  pikes,  cleaving  its  path  of  blood! 

But  still  the  untiring  might  of  Warwick  defied  the 
press  of  numbers  that  swept  round  him,  tide  upon 
tide.  Through  the  mists,  his  black  armor,  black  plume, 
black  steed,  gloomed  forth  like  one  thundercloud  in 
the  midst  of  a  dismal  heaven.  The  noble  charger  bore 
along  that  mighty  rider,  animating,  guiding  all,  with 
as  much  ease  and  lightness  as  the  racer  bears  its  puny 
weight ;  the  steed  itself  was  scarce  less  terrible  to  encoun- 
ter  than  the  sweep  of  the  rider's  axe.  Protected  from 
arrow  and  lance  by  a  coat  of  steel,  the  long  chaffron  or 
pike  which  projected  from  its  barbed  frontal  dripped 
with  gore  as  it  scoured  along.  No  line  of  men,  however 
serried,  could  resist  the  charge  of  that  horse  and  horse- 
man. And  vain  even  Gloucester's  dauntless  presence 
and  thrilling  battle-cry,   when  the  stout  earl   was   seen 


444        THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

looming  through  the  vapor,  and  his  cheerful  shout  was 
heard,   "  My  merry  men,   fight  on !  " 

For  a  third  time,  Gloucester,  spurring  forth  from  his 
recoiling  and  shrinking  followers,  bending  low  over 
his  saddle-bow,  covered  by  his  shield,  and  with  the 
tenth  lance  (his  favorite  weapon,  because  the  one  in 
which  skill  best  supplied  strength)  he  had  borne  that 
day,  launched  himself  upon  the  vast  bulk  of  his  tre- 
mendous foe.  With  that  dogged  energy,  that  rapid 
calculation  which  made  the  basis  of  his  character,  and 
which  ever  clove  through  all  obstacles  at  the  one  that, 
if  destroyed,  destroyed  the  rest, —  in  that,  his  first  great 
battle,  as  in  his  last  at  Bosworth,  he  singled  out  the 
leader,  and  rushed  upon  the  giant  as  the  mastiff  on  the 
horns  and  dewlap  of  the  bull.  Warwick,  in  the  broad 
space  which  his  arm  had  made  around  him  in  the 
carnage,  reined  in  as  he  saw  the  foe,  and  recognized 
the  grisly  cognizance  and  scarlet  mantle  of  his  godson. 
And  even  in  that  moment,  with  all  his  heated  blood 
and  his  remembered  wrong,  and  his  imminent  peril, 
his  generous  and  lion  heart  felt  a  glow  of  admiration  at 
the  valor  of  the  boy  he  had  trained  to  arms, —  of  the 
son  of  the  beloved  York.  "  His  father  little  thought," 
muttered  the  earl,  "  that  that  arm  should  win  glory 
against  his  old  friend's  life  !  "  And  as  the  half  uttered 
word  died  on  his  lips,  the  well-poised  lance  of  Gloucester 
struck  full  upon  his  bassinet,  and,  despite  the  earl's 
horsemanship  and  his  strength,  made  him  reel  in  his 
saddle,  while  the  prince  shot  by,  and  suddenly  wheeling 
round,  cast  away  the  shivered  lance,  and  assailed  him 
sword  in  hand. 

"Back,  Richard, —  boy,  back!"  said  the  earl,  in  a 
voice  that  sounded  hollow  through  his  helmet;  "it  is 
not  against  thee  that  my  wrongs  call  for  blood, — 
pass  on !  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         445 

"  Not  so,  Lord  Warwick, "  answered  Richard,  in  a 
sobered,  and  almost  solemn  voice,  dropping  for  the 
moment  the  point  of  his  sword,  and  raising  his  visor, 
that  he  might  be  the  better  heard, —  "on  the  field  of 
battle  all  memories,  sweet  in  peace,  must  die  !  St.  Paul 
be  my  judge,  that  even  in  this  hour  I  love  you  well ; 
but  I  love  renown  and  glory  more.  On  the  edge  of 
my  sword  sit  power  and  royalty,  and  what  high  souls 
prize  most,  —  ambition :  these  would  nerve  me  against 
mine  own  brother's  breast,  were  that  breast  my  barrier 
to  an  illustrious  future.  Thou  hast  given  thy  daughter 
to  another!  I  smite  the  father,  to  regain  my  bride. 
Lay  on,  and  spare  not !  —  for  he  who  hates  thee  most 
would  prove  not  so  fell  a  foe  as  the  man  who  sees  his 
fortunes  made  or  marred,  his  love  crushed  or  yet 
crowned,  as  this  day's  battle  closes  in  triumph  or  defeat, 
—  Rebel,   defend  thyself!  " 

No  time  was  left  for  further  speech ;  for  as  Richard's 
sword  descended,  two  of  Gloucester's  followers,  Parr 
and  Milwater  by  name,  dashed  from  the  halting  lines 
at  the  distance,  and  bore  down  to  their  young  prince's 
aid.  At  the  same  moment,  Sir  Marmaduke  Nevile  and 
the  Lord  Fitzhugh  spurred  from  the  opposite  line ;  and 
thus  encouraged,  the  band  on  either  side  came  boldly 
forward,  and  the  melee  grew  fierce  and  general.  But 
still  Richard's  sword  singled  out  the  earl,  and  still  the 
earl,  parrying  his  blows,  dealt  his  own  upon  meaner 
heads.  Crushed  by  one  swoop  of  the  axe,  fell  Milwater 
to  the  earth, —  down,  as  again  it  swung  on  high,  fell  Sir 
Humphrey  Bourchier,  who  had  just  arrived  to  Gloucester 
with  messages  from  Edward,  never  uttered  in  the  world 
below.  Before  Marmaduke 's  lance  fell  Sir  Thomas 
Parr;  and  these  three  corpses  making  a  barrier  between 
Gloucester  and  the  earl,  the  duke  turned  fiercely  upon 


446         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

Marmaduke,  while  the  earl,  wheeling  round,  charged 
into  the  midst  of  the  hostile  line,  which  scattered  to 
the  right  and  left. 

"  On !  my  merry  men,  on !  "  rang  once  more  through 
the  heavy  air.  "  They  give  way,  the  London  tailors, 
—  on !  "  and  on  dashed,  with  their  joyous  cry,  the 
merry  men  of  Yorkshire  and  Warwick,  the  warrior 
yeomen !  Separated  thus  from  his  great  foe,  Gloucester, 
after  unhorsing  Marmaduke,  galloped  off  to  sustain  that 
part  of  his  following  which  began  to  waver  and  retreat 
before  the  rush  of  Warwick  and  his  chivalry. 

This,  in  truth,  was  the  regiment  recruited  from  the 
loyalty  of  London,  and  little  accustomed,  we  trow,  were 
the  worthy  heroes  of  Cockaigne  to  the  discipline  of 
arms,  nor  trained  to  that  stubborn  resistance  which 
makes,  under  skilful  leaders,  the  English  peasants  the 
most  enduring  soldiery  that  the  world  has  known  since 
the  day  when  the  Roman  sentinel  perished  amidst  the 
falling  columns  and  lava  floods,1  rather  than,  though 
society  itself  dissolved,  forsake  his  post  unbidden.  "  St. 
Thomas  defend  us !  "  muttered  a  worthy  tailor,  who,  in 
the  flush  of  his  valor,  when  safe  in  the  Chepe,  had 
consented  to  bear  the  rank  of  lieutenant, —  "it  is  not 
reasonable  to  expect  men  of  pith  and  substance  to  be 
crashed  into  jellies,  and  carved  into  subtleties  by  horse- 
hoofs  and  pole-axes.  Right  about  face!  Fly!"  —  and 
throwing  down  his  sword  and  shield,  the  lieutenant 
fairly  took  to  his  heels  as  he  saw  the  charging  column, 
headed  by  the  raven  steed  of  Warwick,  come  giant-like 
through  the  fog.  The  terror  of  one  man  is  contagious, 
and  the  Londoners  actually  turned  their  backs,  when 
Nicholas  Alwyn  cried,  in  his  shrill  voice  and  northern 
accent,  "  Out  on  you !     What  will  the   girls  say  of  us 

1  At  Pompeii. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         447 

in  East-gate  and  the  Chepe1? —  Hurrah  for  the  bold 
hearts  of  London!  —  Round  me,  stout  'prentices!  let 
the  boys  shame  the  men !  This  shaft  for  Cockaigne !  " 
And  as  the  troop  turned  irresolute,  and  Alwyn's  arrow 
left  his  bow,  they  saw  a  horseman  by  the  side  of  Warwick 
reel  in  his  saddle  and  fall  at  once  to  the  earth,  and  so 
great  evidently  was  the  rank  of  the  fallen  man,  that 
even  Warwick  reined  in,  and  the  charge  halted  midway 
in  its  career.  It  was  no  less  a  person  than  the  Duke 
of  Exeter  whom  Alwyn's  shaft  had  disabled  for  the 
field.  This  incident,  coupled  with  the  hearty  address 
of  the  stout  goldsmith,  served  to  reanimate  the  naggers, 
and  Gloucester,  by  a  circuitous  route,  reaching  their 
line  a  moment  after,  they  dressed  their  ranks,  and  a 
flight  of  arrows  followed  their  loud  "  Hurrah  for  London 
town  !  " 

But  the  charge  of  Warwick  had  only  halted,  and 
(while  the  wounded  Exeter  was  borne  back  by  his 
squires  to  the  rear)  it  dashed  into  the  midst  of  the  Lon- 
doners, threw  their  whole  line  into  confusion,  and  drove 
them,  despite  all  the  efforts  of  Gloucester,  far  back  along 
the  plain.  This  well-timed  exploit  served  to  extricate 
the  earl  from  the  main  danger  of  his  position;  and,  has- 
tening to  improve  his  advantage,  he  sent  forthwith  to 
command  the  reserved  forces  under  Lord  St.  John,  the 
Knight  of  Lytton,  Sir  John  Coniers,  Dymoke,  and 
Robert  Hilyard,   to  bear  down  to  his  aid. 

At  this  time  Edward  had  succeeded,  after  a  most 
stubborn  fight,  in  effecting  a  terrible  breach  through 
Somerset's  wing;  and  the  fogs  continued  still  so  dense 
and  mirk,  that  his  foe  itself  —  for  Somerset  had  pru- 
dently drawn  back  to  re-form  his  disordered  squadron  — ■ 
seemed  vanished  from  the  field.  Halting  now,  as 
through  the  dim  atmosphere  came  from  different  quarters 


448         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

-.'      I --.::'.  -cries    (  :'  .:   feudal-day  by  which  alone 

he  could  well  estimate  the  s:re::gt::  or  weakness  of  those 

in  :    .   distance,  his    aim  i  g    ..  is   is  .  general  cooled,  for 

a  time,   his  individual   ferocity  of   knight    and   soldier. 

He  took  his  helmet  from  his  brow  to  listen  with  greater 

the  lords  and  riders  round  him  were  well 

:     :     to    take    breath    and    ;  lusx    from    the    w. 

a  hter. 

-  of  "  Gloucester  to  the  onslaught/  "  was  heard 
no  more.      Feebler  and  feebler,  seatteringly  as  it  were. 
and  here  and  there,  the  note  had  changed  into  "  Glou- 
-    r  to  the  resetu  .'  " 

ther   off  rose,    mingled   and    blent   together,    the 

-    g   shouts,  "A  Montagu,  a  Montagu!  "  —  "  Strike 

for    D'Eyncouri    and    King    Edward!"  —  "A   Say,    a 

"Ha!  said  Edward,  thoughtfully,  "bold  Gloucester 
fails  _.i  is  bearing  on  to  Warwick's  aid,  —  Say 

and  D'Eyncourt  stop  his  path.  Our  doom  looks  dark! 
Bide.  Hastings, — ride:  retrieve  thy  laurels,  and  bring 
up  :  serve  under  Clarence.     But  harkye,  leave  not 

his  side, — he  may  desert  again!  Ho!  ho!  Again, 
'Gloucester  to  the   res  Ah!    how  lustily  sounds 

the  crv  of  'Warwick!'  By  the  naming  sword  of  St 
Michael,  we  will  slacken  that  haughty  shout,  or  be 
evermore  dumb  ourself,  ere  the  day  be  an  hour  nearer 
to  the  eternal  judgment !  " 

Deliber..-  ly,  Edward  rebraced  his  helm,  and  settled 
himself  in  his  saddle,  and  with  his  knights  riding  close 
each  to  each,  that  they  might  not  lose  themselves  in  the 
darkne?-.  regained  his  infantry  and  led  them  on  to 
the  quarter  where  the  war  now  raged  fiercest,  round  the 
black  steed  of  Warwick  and  the  blood-red  manteline  of 
the  fierv  Eiehard. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BABGBSL         449 


CHAPTER  VI. 

- 

It  was  now  scarcely  eight  in  the  morning,  though  the 
battle  had  endured  three  hours;  and,  as  -  ".  :  ~ 
so  inclined  to  the  earl  that  nought  but  some  dire  mis- 
chance could  turn  the  scale.  Montagu  had  cut  his  w 
^merset  had  re-established  his  arr 
The  fresh  vigor  brought  by  the  earl's  reserve  had  well- 
nigh  completed  his  advantage  over  Glo':  -  ^i^g- 
The  new  infantry  tinder  Hilyard,  the  unexhausted  riders 
under  Sir  John  Coniers  and  his  knightly  compeers,  were 
dealing  fearful  havoc,  as  they  cleared  the  plain:  and 
Gloucester,  fighting  inch  by  inch,  no  longer  outnumber- 
ing but  outnumbered,  was  driven  nearer  and  nearer 
towards  the  town,  when  suddenly  a  pale,  sickly,  and 
ghost-like  rav  of  sunshine,  rather  resembling  the  wa: 
gleam  of  a  waning  moon  than  the  radiance  of  the  Lord 
of  Light,  broke  through  the  mists,  and  showed  to  the 
earl's  eager  troops  the  banner  and  badges  of  a  new  array 
hurrying  to  the  spot.  "  Behold, "  cried  the  young  Lord 
Fitzhugh,  "  the  standard  and  the  badge  of  the  Usurper, 
—  a  silver  sun!  Edward  himself  is  delivered  into  our 
hauls  !  X,  pen  them,  —  bill  and  pike,  lance  and  brand, 
shaft  and  bolt  !     Upon  them,  and  crown  the  de. 

-  same   fatal  error  was  shared  by  Ffilyar  :. 

a    I   sight  of  the  advancing  troop,  with  their  silvery 

_:iizance.      He  gave  the  word,  and  every  arrow  left 

its    string.      At  the   same   moment,   as  both  horse  and 

foot  assailed  the  fancied  foe,  the  momentarv  beam  van- 

vol.  ii.  — 29 


450  HE  LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

ished  from  the  heaven,  the  two  forces  mingled  in  the 
sullen  mists,  when,  after  a  hrief  conflict,  a  sudden  and 
horrible  cry  of  "Treason,  treason!"  resounded  from 
either  hand.  The  shining  star  of  Oxford,  returning 
from  the  pursuit,  had  been  mistaken  for  Edward's  cog- 
nizance of  the  sun.1  Friend  was  slaughtering  friend, 
and  when  the  error  was  detected,  each  believed  the 
other  had  deserted  to  the  foe.  In  vain,  here  Montagu 
and  Warwick,  and  there  Oxford  and  his  captains,  sought 
to  dispel  the  confusion,  and  unite  those  whose  blood 
had  been  fired  against  each  other.  While  yet  in 
doubt,  confusion,  and  dismay,  rushed  full  into  the 
centre  Edward  of  York  himself,  with  his  knights  and 
riders;  and  his  tossing  banners,  scarcely  even  yet  dis- 
tinguished from  Oxford's  starry  ensigns,  added  to  the 
general  incertitude  and  panic.  Loud  in  the  midst  rose 
Edward's  trumpet  voice,  while  through  the  midst,  like 
one  crest  of  foam  upon  a  roaring  sea,  danced  his  plume 
of  snow.  Hark!  again,  again  —  near  and  nearer  —  the 
tramp  of  steeds,  the  clash  of  steel,  the  whiz  and  hiss 
of  arrows,  the  shout  of  "Hastings  to  the  onslaught!  " 
Fresh,  and  panting  for  glory  and  for  blood,  came  on 
King  Edward's  large  reserve:  from  all  the  scattered 
parts  of  the  field  spurred  the  Yorkist  knights,  where 
the  uproar,  so  much  mightier  than  before,  told  them 
that  the  crisis  of  the  war  was  come.  Thither,  as  vul- 
tures to  the  carcass,  they  flocked  and  wheeled ;  thither 
D'Eyncourt  and  Lovell,  and  Cromwell's  bloody  sword, 
and  Say's  knotted  mace;  and  thither,  again  rallying  his 
late  half-beaten  myrmidons,  the  grim  Gloucester,  his 
helmet  bruised  and  dinted,  but  the  boar's  teeth  still 
gnashing  wrath  and  horror  from  the  grisly  crest.  But 
direst  and  most  hateful  of  all  in  the  eyes  of  the  yet 
1  Cont.  Croyl.,  555;  Fabyan,  Habinoton,  Hume,  S.  Turner. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         451 

undaunted  earl,  thither,  plainly  visible,  riding  scarcely 
a  yard  before  him,  with  the  cognizance  of  Clare  wrought 
on  his  gay  mantle,  and  in  all  the  pomp  and  bravery  of 
a  holiday  suit,  came  the  perjured  Clarence.  Conflict 
now  it  could  scarce  be  called :  as  well  might  the  Dane 
have  rolled  back  the  sea  from  his  footstool,  as  Warwick 
and  his  disordered  troop  (often  and  aye,  dazzled  here  by 
Oxford's  star,  there  by  Edward's  sun,  dealing  random 
blows  against  each  other)  have  resisted  the  general  whirl 
and  torrent  of  the  surrounding  foe.  To  add  to  the  rout, 
Somerset  and  the  onguard  of  his  wing  had  been  march- 
ing towards  the  earl  at  the  very  time  that  the  cry  of 
"  treason  "  had  struck  their  ears,  and  Edward's  charge 
was  made:  these  men,  nearly  all  Lancastrians,  and  ever- 
doubting  Montagu,  if  not  Warwick,  with  the  example 
of  Clarence  and  the  Archbishop  of  York  fresh  before 
them,  lost  heart  at  once,  —  Somerset  himself  headed  the 
flight  of  his  force. 

"All  is  lost!"  said  Montagu,  as  side  by  side  with 
Warwick  the  brothers  fronted  the  foe,  and  for  one 
moment  stayed  the  rush. 

"  Not  yet,"  returned  the  earl;  "  a  band  of  my  northern 
archers  still  guard  yon  wood:  I  know  them,  —  they  will 
fight  to  the  last  gasp!  Thither,  then,  with  what  men 
we  may.  You  so  marshal  our  soldiers,  and  I  will  make 
good  the  retreat.     Where  is  Sir  Mamaduke  Nevile  1  " 

"Here!" 

"  Horsed  again,  young  cousin !  —  I  give  thee  a  perilous 
commission.  Take  the  path  down  the  hill;  the  mists 
thicken  in  the  hollows,  and  may  hide  thee.  Overtake 
Somerset  —  he  hath  fled  westward  —  and  tell  him,  from 
me,  if  he  can  yet  rally  but  one  troop  of  horse  —  but  one 
—  and  charge  Edward  suddenly  in  the  rear,  he  will  yet 
redeem  all.     If  he  refuse,  the  ruin  of  his  king,  and  the 


452  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

slaughter  of  the  brave  men  he  deserts,  be  on  his  head! 
Swift,  —  a  tout  bride,  Marmaduke.  Yet  one  word," 
added  the  earl,  in  a  whisper,  — "  if  you  fail  with 
Somerset,  come  not  back:  make  to  the  Sanctuary.  You 
are  too  young  to  die,  cousin!  Away!  —  keep  to  the 
hollows  of  the  chase. " 

As  the  knight  vanished,  Warwick  turned  to  his 
comrades,  "Bold  nephew  Fitzhugh,  and  ye  brave  riders 
round  me,  —  so,  we  are  fifty  knights!  Haste  thou, 
Montagu,  to  the  wood, — the  wood!" 

So  noble  in  that  hero  age  was  the  Individual  MAIS", 
even  amidst  the  multitudes  massed  by  war,  that  history 
vies  with  romance  in  showing  how  far  a  single  sword 
could  redress  the  scale  of  war.  While  Montagu,  with 
rapid  dexterity  and  a  voice  yet  promising  victory,  drew 
back  the  remnant  of  the  lines,  and  in  serried  order 
retreated  to  the  outskirts  of  the  wood,  Warwick  and 
his  band  of  knights  protected  the  movement  from  the 
countless  horsemen  who  darted  forth  from  Edward's 
swarming  and  momently  thickening  ranks.  Now  divid- 
ing and  charging  singly,  — now  rejoining,  —  and  breast 
to  breast,  they  served  to  divert  and  perplex  and  harass 
the  eager  enemy.  And  never  in  all  his  wars,  in  all  the 
former  might  of  his  indomitable  arm,  had  Warwick  so 
excelled  the  martial  chivalry  of  his  age,  as  in  that 
eventful  and  crowning  hour.  Thrice,  almost  alone,  he 
penetrated  into  the  very  centre  of  Edward's  body-guard, 
literally  felling  to  the  earth  all  before  him.  Then 
perished  by  his  battle-axe  Lord  Cromwell  and  the 
redoubted  Lord  of  Say,  —  then,  no  longer  sparing  even 
the  old  affection,  Gloucester  was  hurled  to  the  ground. 
The  last  time  he  penetrated  even  to  Edward  himself, 
smiting  down  the  king's  standard-bearer,  unhorsing 
Hastings,  who  threw  himself  on  his  path;  and  Edward, 


THE   LAST   OF  THE   BARONS.  453 

setting  his  teeth  in  stern  joy  as  he  saw  him,  rose  in  his 
stirrups,  and  for  a  moment  the  mace  of  the  king,  the 
axe  of  the  earl,  met  as  thunder  encounters  thunder; 
but  then  a  hundred  knights  rushed  in  to  the  rescue,  and 
rohhed  the  baffled  avenger  of  his  prey.  Thus  charging 
and  retreating,  driving  back,  with  each  charge,  farther 
and  farther  the  mighty  multitude  hounding  on  to  the 
lion's  death,  this  great  chief  and  his  devoted  knights, 
though  terribly  reduced  in  number,  succeeded  at  last  in 
covering  Montagu's  skilful  retreat;  and  when  they 
gained  the  outskirts  of  the  wood,  and  dashed  through 
the  narrow  opening  between  the  barricades,  the  York- 
shire archers  approved  their  lord's  trust,  and,  shouting 
as  to  a  marriage  feast,  hailed  his  coming. 

But  few,  alas!  of  his  fellow-horsemen  had  survived 
that  marvellous  enterprise  of  valor  and  despair.  Of 
the  fifty  knights  who  had  shared  its  perils,  eleven  only 
gained  the  wood;  and  though  in  this  number  the  most 
eminent  (save  Sir  John  Coniers,  either  slain  or  fled) 
might  be  found,  their  horses,  more  exposed  than  them- 
selves, were  for  the  most  part  wounded  and  unfit  for 
further  service.  At  this  time  the  sun  again,  and  sud- 
denly as  before,  broke  forth,  —  not  now  with  a  feeble 
glimmer,  but  a  broad  and  almost  a  cheerful  beam,  which 
sufficed  to  give  a  fuller  view  than  the  clay  had  yet 
afforded  of  the  state  and  prospects  of  the  field. 

To  the  right  and  to  the  left,  what  remained  of  the 
cavalry  of  Warwick  was  seen  flying  fast,  —  gone  the 
lances  of  Oxford,  the  bills  of  Somerset.  Exeter,  pierced 
by  the  shaft  of  Alwyn,  was  lying  cold  and  insensible, 
remote  from  the  contest,  and  deserted  even  by  his 
squires. 

In  front  of  the  archers,  and  such  men  as  Montagu 
had    saved    from    the  sword,  halted   the   immense    and 


454        THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

murmuring  multitude  of  Edward,  their  thousand  ban- 
ners glittering  in  the  sudden  sun ;  for  as  Edward  beheld 
the  last  wrecks  of  his  foe  stationed  near  the  covert,  his 
desire  of  consummating  victory  and  revenge  made  him 
cautious,  and,  fearing  an  ambush,  he  had  abruptly 
halted. 

When  the  scanty  followers  of  the  earl  thus  beheld 
the  immense  force  arrayed  for  their  destruction,  and 
saw  the  extent  of  their  danger  and  their  loss  —  here  the 
handful,  there  the  multitude  —  a  simultaneous  exclama- 
tion of  terror  and  dismay  broke  from  their  ranks. 

"Children!"  cried  Warwick,  "droop  not!  —  Henry 
at  Agincourt  had  worse  odds  than  we !  " 

But  the  murmur  among  the  archers,  the  lealest  part 
of  the  earl's  retainers,  continued,  till  there  stepped 
forth  their  captain,  a  gray  old  man,  but  still  sinewy 
and  unbent,  the  iron  relic  of  a  hundred  battles. 

"  Back  to  your  men,  Mark  Forester!"  said  the  earl, 
sternly. 

The  old  man  obeyed  not.  He  came  on  to  Warwick, 
and  fell  on  his  knees  beside  his  stirrup. 

"Fly,  my  lord;  escape  is  possible  for  you  and  your 
riders.  Fly  through  the  wood;  we  will  screen  your 
path  with  our  bodies.  Your  children,  father  of  your 
followers, — your  children  of  Middleham  ask  no  better 
fate  than  to  die  for  you!  Is  it  not  so?"  and  the  old 
man,  rising,  turned  to  those  in  hearing.  They  answered 
by  a  general  exclamation. 

"  Mark  Forester  speaks  well,"  said  Montagu.  "  On 
you  depends  the  last  hope  of  Lancaster.  We  may  yet 
join  Oxford  and  Somerset!  This  way,  through  the 
wood,  —  come!"  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  earl's 
rein. 

"  Knights  and  sirs,"  said  the  earl,  dismounting,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  B AEONS.         455 

partially  raising  liis  visor  as  he  turned  to  the  horsemen, 
"  let  those  who  will,  fly  with  Lord  Montagu!  Let  those 
who,  in  a  just  cause,  never  despair  of  victory,  nor,  even 
at  the  worst,  fear  to  face  their  Maker,  fresh  from  the 
glorious  death  of  heroes,  dismount  with  me!"  Every 
knight  sprang  from  his  steed,  Montagu  the  first.  "  Com- 
rades! "  continued  the  earl,  then  addressing  the  retain- 
ers, "  when  the  children  fight  for  a  father's  honor,  the 
father  flies  not  from  the  peril  into  which  he  has  drawn 
the  children.  What  to  me  were  life,  stained  by  the 
blood  of  mine  own  beloved  retainers,  basely  deserted  by 
their  chief?  Edward  has  proclaimed  that  he  will  spare 
none.  Eool!  he  gives  us,  then,  the  superhuman  mighti- 
ness of  despair!  To  your  bows!  —  one  shaft,  if  it  pierce 
the  joints  of  the  tyrant's  mail,  —  one  shaft  may  scatter 
yon  army  to  the  winds!  Sir  Marmaduke  has  gone  to 
rally  noble  Somerset  and  his  riders,  —  if  we  make  good 
our  defence  one  little  hour,  the  foe  may  be  yet  smitten 
in  the  rear,  and  the  day  retrieved!  Courage  and  heart 
then !  "  Here  the  earl  lifted  his  visor  to  the  farthest 
bar,  and  showed  his  cheerful  face, — "is  this  the  face 
of  a  man  who  thinks  all  hope  is  gone?" 

In  this  interval  the  sudden  sunshine  revealed  to  King 
Henry  where  he  stood  the  dispersion  of  his  friends. 
To  the  rear  of  the  palisades,  which  protected  the  spot 
where  he  was  placed,  already  grouped  "  the  lookers-on 
and  no  fighters,"1  as  the  chronicler  words  it,  who,  as 
the  guns  slackened,  ventured  forth  to  learn  the  news, 
and  who  now,  filling  the  churchyard  of  Hadley,  strove 
hard  to  catch  a  peep  of  Henry  the  saint,  or  of  Bungey 
the  sorcerer.  Mingled  with  these  gleamed  the  robes 
of  the  tymbesteres,  pressing  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
barriers,  as  wolves,  in  the  instinct  of  blood,  come  nearei 

1  Fabyan. 


456         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

and  nearer  round  the  circling  watch-fire  of  some  northern 
travellers.  At  this  time  the  friar,  turning  to  one  of  the 
guards  who  stood  near  him,  said,  "  The  mists  are  needed 
no  more  now:  King  Edward  hath  got  the  day,  —  eh?  " 

"Certes,  great  master,"  quoth  the  guard,  "nothing 
now  lacks  to  the  king's  triumph,  except  the  death  of 
the  earl." 

"  Infamous  nigromancer,  hear  that !  "  cried  Bungey  to 
Adam.  "  What  now  avail  thy  hombards  and  thy  talis- 
man !  Harkye  !  —  tell  me  the  secret  of  the  last,  —  of 
the  damnable  engine  under  my  feet,  and  I  may  spare 
thy  life." 

Adam  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  impatient  disdain. 
"  Unless  I  gave  thee  my  science,  my  secret  were  profit- 
less to  thee.     Villain  and  numskull,  do  thy  worst." 

The  friar  made  a  sign  to  a  soldier  who  stood  behind 
Adam,  and  the  soldier  silently  drew  the  end  of  the  rope 
which  girded  the  scholar's  neck  round  a  bough  of  the 
leafless  tree.  "Hold!"  whispered  the  friar,  "  not  till 
I  give  the  word.  — The  earl  may  recover  himself  yet," 
he  added  to  himself.  And  therewith  he  began  once 
more  to  vociferate  his  incantations.  Meanwhile  the 
eyes  of  Sibyll  had  turned  for  a  moment  from  her 
father;  for  the  burst  of  sunshine,  lighting  up  the 
valley  below,  had  suddenly  given  to  her  eyes,  in  the 
distance,  the  gable-ends  of  the  old  farmhouse,  with 
the  wintry  orchard, — no  longer,  alas!  smiling  with 
starry  blossoms.  Far  remote  from  the  battle-field  was 
that  abode  of  peace,  —  that  once  happy  home,  where 
she  had  watched  the  coming  of  the  false  one  ! 

Loftier  and  holier  were  the  thoughts  of  the  fated 
king.  He  had  turned  his  face  from  the  field,  and  his 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  tower  of  the  church  behind. 
And  while  he  so  gazed,  the  knoll  from  the  belfry  began 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BAKONS.         457 

solemnly  to  chime.  It  was  now  near  the  hour  of  the 
Sahbath  prayers,  and  amidst  horror  and  carnage,  still 
the  holy  custom  was  not  suspended. 

"  Hark  !  "  said  the  king,  mournfully,  — "  that  chime 
summons  many  a  soul  to  God  !  " 

While  thus  the  scene  on  the  eminence  of  Hadley, 
Edward,  surrounded  by  Hastings,  Gloucester,  and  his 
principal  captains,  took  advantage  of  the  unexpected 
sunshine  to  scan  the  foe  and  its  position  with  the  eye 
of  his  intuitive  genius  for  all  that  can  slaughter  man. 
"This  day,"  he  said,  "brings  no  victory,  assures  no 
crown,  if  Warwick  escape  alive.  To  you,  Lovell  and 
Ratcliffe,  I  intrust  two  hundred  knights:  your  sole 
care,  —  the  head  of  the  rebel  earl!" 

"  And  Montagu  1  "  said  Katcliffe. 

"Montagu?  Nay, — poor  Montagu,  I  loved  him  as 
well  once  as  my  own  mother's  son;  and  Montagu,"  he 
muttered  to  himself,  "  I  never  wronged,  and  therefore 
him  I  can  forgive!  Spare  the  marquis, — I  mislike 
that  wood;  they  must  have  more  force  within  than 
that  handful  on  the  skirts  betrays.  Come  hither, 
D'Eyncourt." 

And  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  Warwick  and  his 
men  saw  two  parties  of  horse  leave  the  main  body,  — ■ 
one  for  the  right  hand,  one  the  left,  —  folloAved  by  long 
detachments  of  pikes,  which  they  protected;  and  then 
the  central  array  marched  slowly  and  steadily  on  towards 
the  scanty  foe.  The  design  was  obvious,  —  to  surround 
on  all  sides  the  enemy,  driven  to  its  last  desperate  bay. 
But  Montagu  and  his  brother  had  not  been  idle  in  the 
breathing  pause ;  they  had  planted  the  greater  portion 
of  the  archers  skilfully  among  the  trees.  They  had 
placed  their  pikemen  on  the  verge  of  the  barricades, 
made    by   sharp   stakes  and   fallen    timber,   and    where 


458         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

their  rampart  was  unguarded  by  the  pass  which  had 
been  left  free  for  the  horsemen,  Hilyard  and  his 
stoutest  fellows  took  their  post,  filling  the  gap  with 
breasts  of  iron. 

And  now,  as  with  horns  and  clarions,  —  with  a  sea  of 
plumes,  and  spears,  and  pennons, — the  multitudinous 
deathsmen  came  on;  Warwick,  towering  in  the  front, 
not  one  feather  on  his  eagle  crest  despoiled  or  shorn, 
stood  dismounted,  his  visor  still  raised,  by  his  renowned 
steed.  Some  of  the  men  had  by  Warwick's  order 
removed  the  mail  from  the  destrier's  breast;  and  the 
noble  animal,  relieved  from  the  weight,  seemed  as 
unexhausted  as  its  rider:  save  where  the  champed  foam 
had  bespecked  its  glossy  hide,  not  a  hair  was  turned; 
and  the  onguard  of  the  Yorkists  heard  its  fiery  snort, 
as  they  moved  slowly  on.  This  figure  of  horse  and 
horseman  stood  prominently  forth  amidst  the  little 
band.  And  Lovell,  riding  by  Ratcliffe's  side,  whis- 
pered, "  Beshrew  me,  I  would  rather  King  Edward  had 
asked  for  mine  own  head  than  that  gallant  earl's !  " 

"Tush,  youth,"  said  the  inexorable  Ratcliffe,  —  "I 
care  not  of  what  steps  the  ladder  of  mine  ambition  may 
be  made  !  " 

While  they  were  thus  speaking,  Warwick,  turning 
to  Montagu  and  his  knights,  said, — 

"  Our  sole  hope  is  in  the  courage  of  our  men.  And, 
as  at  Touton,  when  I  gave  the  throne  to  yon  false  man, 
I  slew,  with  my  own  hand,  my  noble  Malech,  to  show 
that  on  that  spot  I  would  win  or  die,  and  by  that  sacri- 
fice so  fired  the  soldiers  that  we  turned  the  day,  —  so 
now  —  oh,  gentlemen,  in  another  hour  ye  would  jeer 
me,  for  my  hand  fails;  this  hand  that  the  poor  beast 
hath  so  often  fed  from!  Saladin,  last  of  thy  race,  serve 
me   now   in  death  as  in  life.      Not  for  my  sake,  oh 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  459 

noblest  steed  that  ever  bore  a  knight,  —  not  for  mine 
this  offering  !  " 

He  kissed  the  destrier  on  his  frontal,  and  Saladin, 
as  if  conscious  of  the  coming  blow,  bent  his  proud  crest 
humbly,  and  licked  his  lord's  steel-clad  hand.  So 
associated  together  had  been  horse  and  horseman,  that 
had  it  been  a  human  sacrifice,  the  bystanders  could  not 
have  been  more  moved.  And  when,  covering  the  charg- 
er's eyes  with  one  hand,  the  earl's  dagger  descended, 
bright  and  rapid,  —  a  groan  went  through  the  ranks. 
But  the  effect  was  unspeakable  !  The  men  knew  at 
once,  that  to  them,  and  them  alone,  their  lord  intrusted 
his  fortunes  and  his  life, — they  were  nerved  to  more 
than  mortal  daring.  ISTo  escape  for  Warwick,  —  why, 
then,  in  Warwick's  person  they  lived  and  died!  Upon 
foe  as  upon  friend  the  sacrifice  produced  all  that  could 
tend  to  strengthen  the  last  refuge  of  despair.  Even 
Edward,  where  he  rode  in  the  van,  beheld  and  knew 
the  meaning  of  the  deed.  Victorious  Touton  rushed 
back  upon  his  memory  with  a  thrill  of  strange  terror 
and  remorse. 

"He  will  die  as  he  has  lived,"  said  Gloucester,  with 
admiration.  "  If  I  live  for  such  a  field,  God  grant 
me  such  a  deatli !  " 

As  the  words  left  the  duke's  lips,  and  Warwick,  one 
foot  on  his  dumb  friend's  corpse,  gave  the  mandate,  a 
murderous  discharge  from  the  archers  in  the  covert 
rattled  against  the  line  of  the  Yorkists,  and  the  foe, 
still  advancing,  stepped  over  a  hundred  corpses  to  the 
conflict.  Despite  the  vast  preponderance  of  numbers, 
the  skill  of  Warwick's  archers,  the  strength  of  his 
position,  the  ohstacle  to  the  cavalry  made  by  the  barri- 
cades, rendered  the  attack  perilous  in  the  extreme.  But 
the  orders  of  Edward  were  prompt  and  vigorous.     He 


4G0  THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS. 

cared  not  for  the  waste  of  life,  and  as  one  rank  fell, 
another  rushed  on.  High  before  the  barricades  stood 
Montagu,  Warwick,  and  the  rest  of  that  indomitable 
chivalry,  the  flower  of  the  ancient  Norman  heroism. 
As  idly  beat  the  waves  upon  a  rock  as  the  ranks  of 
Edward  upon  that  serried  front  of  steel.  The  sun 
still  shone  in  heaven,  and  still  Edward's  conquest 
was  unassured.  Nay,  if  Marmaduke  could  yet  bring 
back  the  troops  of  Somerset  upon  the  rear  of  the  foe, 
Montagu  and  the  earl  felt  that  the  victory  might  be 
for  them.  And  often  the  earl  paused  to  hearken  for 
the  cry  of  "  Somerset !  "  on  the  gale,  and  often  Montagu 
raised  his  visor  to  look  for  the  banners  and  the  spears 
of  the  Lancastrian  duke.  And  ever,  as  the  earl  listened 
and  Montagu  scanned  the  field,  larger  and  larger  seemed 
to  spread  the  armament  of  Edward.  The  regiment 
which  boasted  the  stubborn  energy  of  Alwyn  was  now 
in  movement,  and,  encouraged  by  the  young  Saxon's 
hardihood,  the  Londoners  marched  on,  unawed  by  the 
massacre  of  their  predecessors.  But  Alwyn,  avoiding 
the  quarter  defended  by  the  knights,  defiled  a  little 
towards  the  left,  where  his  quick  eye,  inured  to  the 
northern  fogs,  had  detected  the  weakness  of  the  barricade 
in  the  spot  where  Hilyard  was  stationed;  and  this  pass 
Alwyn  (discarding  the  bow)  resolved  to  attempt  at  the 
point  of  the  pike,  —  the  weapon  answering  to  our 
modern  bayonet.  The  first  rush  which  he  headed  was 
so  impetuous  as  to  effect  an  entry.  The  weight  of  the 
numbers  behind  urged  on  the  foremost,  and  Hilyard 
had  not  sufficient  space  for  the  sweep  of  the  two-handed 
sword  which  had  done  good  work  that  day.  While 
here  the  conflict  became  fierce  and  doubtful,  the  right 
wing  led  by  D'Eyncourt  had  pierced  the  wood,  and, 
surprised  to  discover  no  ambush,  fell  upon  the  archers 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         461 

In  the  rear.  The  scene  was  now  inexpressibly  terrific; 
cries  and  groans,  and  the  ineffable  roar  and  yell  of 
human  passion,  resounded  demon-like  through  the  shade 
of  the  leafless  trees.  And  at  this  moment  the  provident 
and  rapid  generalship  of  Edward  had  moved  up  one  of 
his  heavy  bombards.  Warwick  and  Montagu,  and  most 
of  the  knights,  were  called  from  the  barricades  to  aid 
the  archers  thus  assailed  behind,  but  an  instant  before 
that  defence  was  shattered  into  air  by  the  explosion  of 
the  bombard.  In  another  minute  horse  and  foot  rushed 
through  the  opening;  and  amidst  all  the  din  was  heard 
the  voice  of  Edward,  "  Strike!  and  spare  not;  we  win 
the  day!  "  "  We  win  the  day!  —  victory  !  —  victory  !  " 
repeated  the  troops  behind ;  rank  caught  the  sound  from 
rank,  and  file  from  file,  —  it  reached  the  captive  Henry, 
and  he  paused  in  prayer;  it  reached  the  ruthless  friar, 
and  he  gave  the  sign  to  the  hireling  at  his  shoulder;  it 
reached  the  priest  as  he  entered,  unmoved,  the  church 
of  Hadley.  And  the  bell,  changing  its  note  into  a 
quicker  and  sweeter  chime,  invited  the  living  to  prepare 
for  death,  and  the  soul  to  rise  above  the  cruelty  and  the 
falsehood,  and  the  pleasure  and  the  pomp,  and  the 
wisdom  and  the  glory  of  the  world!  And  suddenly, 
as  the  chime  ceased,  there  was  heard,  from  the  eminence 
hard  by,  a  shriek  of  agony  —  a  female  shriek  —  drowned 
by  the  roar  of  a  bombard  in  the  field  below. 

On  pressed  the  Yorkists  through  the  pass  forced  by 
Alwyn.  "  Yield  thee,  stout  fellow,"  said  the  bold 
trader  to  Hilyard,  whose  dogged  energy,  resembling  his 
own,  moved  his  admiration,  and  in  whom,  by  the  accent 
in  which  Robin  called  his  men,  he  recognized  a  north 
countryman,  —  "yield,  and  I  will  see  that  thou  goest 
safe  in  life  and  limb:  look  round,  — ye  are  beaten." 

"  Fool !  "  answered  Hilyard,  setting  his  teeth,  —  "  the 


462         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

People  are  never  beaten!"  And  as  the  words  left  his 
lips,  the  shot  from  the  recharged  bombard  shattered  him 
piecemeal. 

"  On  for  London  and  the  crown !  "  cried  Alwyn,  — 
"  the  citizens  are  the  people  !  " 

At  this  time,  through  the  general  crowd  of  the 
Yorkists,  Ratcliffe  and  Lovell,  at  the  head  of  their 
appointed  knights,  galloped  forward  to  accomplish  their 
crowning  mission. 

Behind  the  column  which  still  commemorates  "  the 
great  battle "  of  that  day,  stretches  now  a  trilateral 
patch  of  pasture-land,  which  faces  a  small  house.  At 
that  time  this  space  was  rough  forest-ground,  and  where 
now,  in  the  hedge,  rise  two  small  trees,  types  of  the 
diminutive  offspring  of  our  niggard  and  ignoble  civiliza- 
tion, rose  then  two  huge  oaks,  coeval  with  the  warriors 
of  the  Norman  Conquest.  They  grew  close  together, 
yet,  though  their  roots  interlaced, —  though  their  branches 
mingled,  one  had  not  taken  nourishment  from  the  other. 
They  stood,  equal  in  height  and  grandeur,  the  twin 
giants  of  the  wood.  Before  these  trees,  whose  ample 
trunks  protected  them  from  the  falchions  in  the  rear, 
Warwick  and  Montagu  took  their  last  post.  In  front 
rose,  literally,  mounds  of  the  slain,  whether  of  foe  or 
friend;  for  round  the  two  brothers  to  the  last  had 
gathered  the  brunt  of  war,  and  they  towered  now,  almost 
solitary  in  valor's  sublime  despair,  amidst  the  wrecks  of 
battle,  and  against  the  irresistible  march  of  fate.  As 
side  by  side  they  had  gained  this  spot,  and  the  vulgar 
assailants  drew  back,  leaving  the  bodies  of  the  dead  their 
last  defence  from  death,  they  turned  their  visors  to  each 
other,  as  for  one  latest  farewell  on  earth. 

"  Forgive  me,  Richard, "  said  Montagu,  —  "  forgive  me 
thy  death:  had  I  not  so  blindly  believed  in  Clarence's 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BATtONS.  463 

fatal  order,  the  savage  Edward  had  never  passed  alive 
through  the  pass  of  Pontefract. " 

"  Blame  not  thyself, "  replied  Warwick.  "  We  are 
hut  the  instruments  of  a  wiser  Will.  God  assoil  thee, 
hrother  mine.  We  leave  this  world  to  tyranny  and  vice. 
Christ,  receive  our  souls  !  " 

For  a  moment  their  hands  clasped,  and  then  all  was 
grim  silence. 

Wide  and  far,  hehind  and  before,  in  the  gleam  of 
the  sun,  stretched  the  victorious  armament,  and  that 
breathing-pause  sufficed  to  show  the  grandeur  of  their 
resistance:  the  grandest  of  all  spectacles,  even  in  its 
hopeless  extremity,  —  the  defiance  of  brave  hearts  to  the 
brute  force  of  the  Many.  Where  they  stood  they  were 
visible  to  thousands,  but  not  a  man  stirred  against  them. 
The  memory  of  Warwick's  past  achievements,  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  feats  that  day,  all  the  splendor  of  his 
fortunes  and  his  name,  —  made  the  mean  fear  to  strike, 
and  the  brave  ashamed  to  murder.  The  gallant  D'Eyn- 
court  sprung  from  his  steed,  and  advanced  to  the  spot. 
His  followers  did  the  same. 

"  Yield,  my  lords,  —  yield !  Ye  have  done  all  that 
men  could   do." 

"Yield,  Montagu,"  whispered  Warwick.  "Edward 
can  harm  not  thee.  Life  has  sweets;  so  they  say,  at 
least. " 

"  Not  with  power  and  glory  gone.  We  yield  not,  Sir 
Knight,"  answered  the  marquis,  in  a  calm  tone. 

"  Then  die,  and  make  room  for  the  new  men  whom 
ye  so  have  scorned!"  exclaimed  a  fierce  voice;  and 
Ratcliffe,  who  had  neared  the  spot,  dismounted,  and 
hallooed  on  his  bloodhounds. 

Seven  points  might  the  shadow  have  traversed  on  the 
dial,    and   before  Warwick's  axe  and  Montagu's   sword 


464         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

seven  souls  had  gone  to  judgment.  In  that  brief  crisis, 
amidst  the  general  torpor  and  stupefaction  and  awe  of 
the  bystanders,  round  one  little  spot  centred  still  a  war. 

But  numbers  rushed  on  numbers,  as  the  fury  of  con- 
flict urged  on  the  lukewarm.  Montagu  was  beaten  to 
his  knee, —  Warwick  covered  him  with  his  body:  a  hun- 
dred axes  resounded  on  the  earl's  stooping  casque,  a 
hundred  blades  gleamed  round  the  joints  of  his  harness. 
A  simultaneous  cry  was  heard, —  over  the  mounds  of  the 
slain,  through  the  press  into  the  shadow  of  the  oaks, 
dashed  Gloucester's  charger.  The  conflict  had  ceased, — 
the  executioners  stood  mute  in  a  half-circle.  Side  by 
side,  axe  and  sword  still  griped  in  their  iron  hands,  lay 
Montagu  and  Warwick. 

The  young  duke,  his  visor  raised,  contemplated  the 
fallen  foes  in  silence;  then  dismounting,  lie  unbraced 
with  his  own  hand  the  earl's  helmet.  Revived  for  a 
moment  by  the  air,  the  hero's  eyes  unclosed,  his  lips 
moved;  he  raised,  with  a  feeble  effort,  the  gory  battle- 
axe,  and  the  armed  crowd  recoiled  in  terror.  But  the 
earl's  soul,  dimly  conscious,  and  about  to  part,  had 
escaped  from  that  scene  of  strife  —  its  later  thoughts  of 
wrath  and  vengeance  —  to  more  gentle  memories,  to 
such  memories  as  fade  the  last  from  true  and  manly 
hearts ! 

"  Wife  !  —  child  !  "  murmured  the  earl,  indistinctly. 
"Anne,  Anne!  Dear  ones,  God  comfort  ye!"  And 
with  these  words  the  breath  went,  the  head  fell  heavily 
on  its  mother  earth,  —  the  face  set,  calm  and  undistorted, 
as  the  face  of  a  soldier  should  be  when  a  brave  death  has 
been  worthy  of  a  brave  life. 

"  So,"  muttered  the  dark  and  musing  Gloucester,  un- 
conscious of  the  throng, —  "  so  perishes  the  Race  of  Iron. 
Low  lies  the  last  baron  who  could  control  the  throne  and 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  465 

command  the  people.  The  Age  of  Force  expires  with 
knighthood  and  deeds  of  arms.  And  over  this  dead 
great  man  I  see  the  New  Cycle  dawn.  Happy,  hence- 
forth, he  who  can  plot,  and  scheme,  and  fawn,  and 
smile !  "  Waking  with  a  start  from  his  revery ,  the 
splendid  dissimulator  said,  as  in  sad  reproof,  "  Ye  have 
been  over-hasty,  knights  and  gentlemen.  The  House  of 
York  is  mighty  enough  to  have  spared  such  noble  foes. 
Sound  trumpets!  Fall  in  file!  Way,  there, —  way. 
King  Edward  comes  !     Long  live  the  king  !  " 

VOL.  II. — 30 


466         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Last  Pilgrims  in  the  Long  Procession  to  the  Common 
Bourne. 

The  king  and  his  royal  brothers,  immediately  after  the 
victory,  rode  back  to  London  to  announce  their  triumph. 
The  foot-soldiers  still  stayed  behind  to  recruit  themselves 
after  the  sore  fatigue;  and  towards  the  eminence  by 
Hadley  Church  the  peasants  and  villagers  of  the  district 
had  pressed  in  awe  and  in  wonder;  for  on  that  spot  had 
Henry  (now  sadly  led  back  to  a  prison,  never  again  to 
unclose  to  his  living  form)  stood  to  watch  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  host  gathered  in  his  name, —  and  to  that  spot 
the  corpses  of  Warwick  and  Montagu  were  removed, 
while  a  bier  was  prepared  to  convey  their  remains  to 
London  ;i  and  on  that  spot  had  the  renowned  friar 
conjured  the  mists,  exorcised  the  enchanted  guns,  and 
defeated  the  horrible  machinations  of  the  Lancastrian 
wizard. 

And  towards  the  spot,  and  through  the  crowd,  a  young 
Yorkist  captain  passed  with  a  prisoner  he  had  captured, 

1  The  hodies  of  Montagu  and  the  earl  were  exhibited  bareheaded 
at  St.  Paul's  church  for  three  days,  "  that  no  pretences  of  their 
being  alive  might  stir  up  any  rebellion  afterwards ;"  "they  were 
then  carried  down  to  the  Priory  of  Bisham.  in  Berkshire,  where, 
among  their  ancestors  by  the  mother's  side  (the  Earls  of  Salis- 
bury), the  two  unquiet  brothers  rest  in  one  tomb."  "  The  large 
river  of  their  blood,  divided  now  into  many  streams,  runs  so  small, 
they  are  hardly  observed  as  they  flow  by."  1  —  Sic  transit  gloria 
mundi! 

1  Habington's  "Life  of  Edward  IV."  one  of  the  most  eloquent  compositions  in 
the  language,  though  incorrect  as  a  history. 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   BARONS.  467 

and  whom  he  was  leading  to  the  tent  of  the  Lord  Hast- 
ings, the  only  one  of  the  commanders  from  whom  mercy 
might  be  hoped,  and  who  had  tarried  behind  the  king 
and  his  royal  brothers  to  make  preparations  for  the 
removal  of  the  mighty  dead. 

"  Keep  close  to  me,  Sir  Marmaduke, "  said  the  Yorkist : 
"  we  must  look  to  Hastings  to  appease  the  king;  and  if 
he  hope  not  to  win  your  pardon,  he  may,  at  least,  after 
such  a  victory,  aid  one  foe  to  fly." 

"  Care  not  for  me,  Alwyn, "  said  the  knight ;  "  when 
Somerset  was  deaf  save  to  his  own  fears,  I  came  back  to 
die  by  my  chieftain's  side,  alas,  too  late, —  too  late! 
Better  now  death  than  life  !  What  kin,  kith,  ambition, 
love,  were  to  other  men,  was  Lord  Warwick's  smile  to 
me!" 

Alwyn  kindly  respected  his  prisoner's  honest  emotion, 
and  took  advantage  of  it  to  lead  him  away  from  the  spot 
where  he  saw  knights  and  warriors  thickest  grouped,  in 
soldier-like  awe  and  sadness,  round  the  Hero-Brothers. 
He  pushed  through  a  humbler  crowd  of  peasants,  and 
citizens,  and  women  with  babes  at  their  breast;  and 
suddenly  saw  a  troop  of  timbrel-women  dancing  round  a 
leafless  tree,  and  chanting  some  wild  but  mirthful  and 
joyous  doggerel. 

"  What  obscene  and  ill-seasoned  revelry  is  this  ?  "  said 
the  trader  to  a  gaping  yeoman. 

"  They  are  but  dancing,  poor  girls,  round  the  wicked 
wizard  whom  Friar  Bungey  caused  to  be  strangled  and 
his  witch  daughter. " 

A  chill  foreboding  seized  upon  Alwyn ;  he  darted  for- 
ward, scattering  peasant  and  tymbestere  with  his  yet 
bloody  sword.  His  feet  stumbled  against  some  broken 
fragments ;  it  was  the  poor  Eureka,  shattered  at  last  for 


468         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

the  sake  of  the  diamond!  Valueless  to  the  great  friar, 
since  the  science  of  the  owner  could  not  pass  to  his  exe- 
cutioner,—  valueless,  the  mechanism  and  the  invention, 
the  lahor  and  the  genius,  but  the  superstition,  and  the 
folly,  and  the  delusion,  had  their  value,  and  the  impos- 
tor who  destroyed  the  engine  clutched  the  jewel! 

From  the  leafless  tree  was  suspended  the  dead  body  of 
a  man ;  beneath,  lay  a  female,  dead  too,  —  but  whether 
by  the  hand  of  man  or  the  mercy  of  Heaven,  there  was 
no  sign  to  tell.  Scholar  and  Child,  Knowledge  and  In- 
nocence alike  were  cold ;  the  grim  Age  had  devoured 
them  as  it  devours  ever  those  before,  as  behind,  its 
march, —  and  confounds,  in  one  common  doom,  the  too 
guileless  and  the  too  wise. 

"  Why  crowd  ye  thus,  knaves  1  "  said  a  commanding 
voice. 

"  Ha,  Lord  Hastings !  —  approach !  behold !  "  ex- 
claimed Alwyn. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  shouted  Graul,  as  she  led  her  sisters  from 
the  spot,  wheeling,  and  screaming,  and  tossing  up  their 
timbrels,  —  "  ha  !  the  witch  and  her  lover !  —  Ha,  ha ! 
Foul  is  fair !  —  Ha,  ha !  Witchcraft  and  death  go  to- 
gether, as  thou  mayst  learn  at  the  last,  sleek  wooer." 

And,  peradventure,  when,  long  years  afterwards, 
accusations  of  witchcraft,  wantonness,  and  treason,  re- 
sounded in  the  ears  of  Hastings,  and,  at  the  signal  of 
Gloucester,  rushed  in  the  armed  doomsmen,  those  omi- 
nous words  echoed  back  upon  his  soul! 

At  that  very  hour  the  gates  of  the  Tower  were  thrown 
open  to  the  multitude.  Fresh  from  his  victory,  Edward 
and  his  brothers  had  gone  to  render  thanksgivings  at  St. 
Paul's  (they  were  devout,  those  three  Plantagenets  ! ), 
thence  to  Baynard's  Castle,  to  escort  the  queen  and  her 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS.         469 

children  once  more  to  the  Tower.  And  now  the  sound 
of  trumpets  stilled  the  joyous  uproar  of  the  multitude, 
for  in  the  halcony  of  the  casement  that  looked  towards 
the  chapel  the  herald  had  just  announced  that  King 
Edward  would  show  himself  to  the  people.  On  every 
inch  of  the  court-yard,  climbing  up  wall  and  palisade, 
soldier,  citizen,  thief,  harlot,  —  age,  childhood,  all  the 
various  conditions  and  epochs  of  multiform  life,  swayed, 
clung,  murmured,  moved,  jostled,  trampled;  —  the  beings 
of  the  little  hour  ! 

High  from  the  battlements  against  the  westering  beam 
floated  Edward's  conquering  flag,  —  a  sun  shining  to  the 
sun.  Again,  and  a  third  time,  rang  the  trumpets,  and 
on  the  balcony,  his  crown  upon  his  head,  but  his  form 
still  sheathed  in  armor,  stood  the  king.  What  mattered 
to  the  crowd  his  falseness  and  his  perfidy,  —  his  licen- 
tiousness and  cruelty  1  All  vices  ever  vanish  in  success ! 
Hurrah  for  King  Edward!  The  man  of  the  age 
suited  the  age,  had  valor  for  its  war  and  cunning  for  its 
peace,  and  the  sympathy  of  the  age  was  with  him!  So 
there  stood  the  king ;  at  his  right  hand,  Elizabeth,  with 
her  infant  boy  (the  heir  of  England)  in  her  arms,  —  the 
proud  face  of  the  duchess  seen  over  the  queen's  shoulder. 
By  Elizabeth's  side  was  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  leaning 
on  his  sword,  and  at  the  left  of  Edward  the  perjured 
Clarence  bowed  his  fair  head  to  the  joyous  throng  !  At 
the  sight  of  the  victorious  king,  of  the  lovely  queen,  and, 
above  all,  of  the  young  male  heir,  who  promised  length 
of  days  to  the  line  of  York,  the  crowd  burst  forth  with 
a  hearty  cry,  "  Long  live  the  king  and  the  king's  son  !  " 
Mechanically  Elizabeth  turned  her  moistened  eyes  from 
Edward  to  Edward's  brother,  and  suddenly,  as  with  a 
mother's  prophetic  instinct,  clasped  her  infant  closer  to 


470         THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

her  bosom  when  she  caught  the  glittering  and  fatal  eye 
of  Richard  Duke  of  Gloucester  (York's  young  hero  of  the 
day,  Warwick's  grim  avenger  in  the  future),  fixed  upon 
that  harmless  life,  —  destined  to  interpose  a  feeble  obstacle 
between  the  ambition  of  a  ruthless  intellect  and  the 
heritage  of  the  English  throne ! 


NOTES. 


Hume,  Eapin,  and  Carte,  all  dismiss  the  story  of  Edward's  ac- 
tual imprisonment  at  Middleham,  while  Lingard,  Sharon  Turner, 
and  others,  adopt  it  implicitly.  And  yet,  though  Lingard  has  suc- 
cessfully grappled  with  some  of  Hume's  objections,  he  has  left 
others  wholly  unanswered.  Hume  states  that  no  such  fact  is  men- 
tioned in  Edward's  subsequent  proclamation  against  Clarence  and 
Warwick.  Lingard  answers,  after  correcting  an  immaterial  error 
in  Hume's  dates,  —  "  that  the  proclamation  ought  not  to  have  men- 
tioned it,  because  it  was  confined  to  the  enumeration  of  offences 
only  committed  after  the  general  amnesty  in  14G9."  And  then, 
surely  with  some  inconsistency,  quotes  the  attainder  of  Clarence 
many  years  afterwards,  in  which  the  king  enumerates  it  among  his 
offences,  "  as  jeopardyug  the  king's  royal  estate,  person,  and  life, 
in  strait  warde,  putting  him  thereby  from  all  his  libertye  after  pro- 
curing great  commotions."  But  it  is  clear  that  if  the  amnesty 
hindered  Edward  from  charging  Warwick  with  this  imprisonment 
only  one  year  after  it  was  granted,  it  would,  a  fortiori,  hinder  him 
from  charging  Clarence  with  it  nine  years  after.  Most  probable 
is  it  that  this  article  of  accusation  does  not  refer  to  any  imprison- 
ment, real  or  supposed,  at  Middleham,  in  1469,  but  to  Clarence's 
invasion  of  England,  in  1470,  when  Edward's  "  state,  personne,  and 
life  "  were  indeed  jeopardized  by  his  narrow  escape  from  the  forti- 
fied house,  where  he  might  fairly  be  called,  "  in  straite  warde ;  " 
especially  as  the  words,  "  after  procuring  great  commotions,"  could 
not  apply  to  the  date  of  the  supposed  detention  in  Middleham, 
when,  instead  of  procuring  commotions,  Clarence  had  helped  War- 
wick to  allay  them,  but  do  properly  apply  to  his  subsequent  rebel- 
lion in  1470.  Finally,  Edward's  charges  against  his  brother,  as 
Lingard  himself  has  observed  elsewhere,  are  not  proofs,  and  that 
king  never  scrupled  at  any  falsehood  to  serve  his  turn.  Nothing, 
in  short,  can  be  more  improbable  than  this  tale  of  Edward's  cap- 


472  NOTES. 

tivity, —  there  was  no  object  in  it.  At  the  very  time  it  is  said  to 
have  taken  place,  Warwick  is  absolutely  engaged  in  warfare  against 
the  king's  fues.  The  moment  Edward  leaves  Middleham,  instead 
of  escaping  to  London,  he  goes  carelessly  and  openly  to  York,  to 
judge  and  execute  the  very  captain  of  the  rebels  whom  Warwick 
has  subdued,  and  in  the  very  midst  of  Warwick's  armies !  Far 
from  appearing  to  harbor  the  natural  resentment  so  vindictive  a 
king  must  have  felt  (had  so  great  an  indignity  been  offered  to  him), 
—  almost  immediately  after  he  leaves  York,  he  takes  the  Nevile 
family  into  greater  power  than  ever,  confers  new  dignities  upon 
Warwick,  and  betroths  his  eldest  daughter  to  Warwick's  nephew. 
On  the  whole,  then,  perhaps  some  such  view  of  the  king's  visit  to 
Middleham,  which  has  been  taken  in  this  narrative,  may  be  con- 
sidered not  the  least  probable  compromise  of  the  disputed  and 
contradictory  evidence  on  the  subject. 


THE   END. 


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Comtesse  de  Charny,  3  vols. 

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Ninette,  1  vol. 
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Mill,    Letters    to    an   Absent 

One,  1  vol. 
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Notes   on  Life,  Thirty  Years 

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Paul  Clifford,  1  vol. 

Godolphin,  1  vol. 

Ernest  Maltravers,  1  vol. 

Alice,  1  vol. 

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Lucretia,  1  vol. 

Kenelm  Chillingly,  etc.,  2  vols. 

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Romances 

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Zanoni,  and  Zicci,  1  vol. 
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Last  Days  of  Pompeii,  1  vol. 

Eienzi,  1  vol. 

Last  of  the  Barons,  2  vols. 

Harold,  1  vol. 


THE   NOVELS   AND   POEMS   OF 
GEORGE  ELIOT 

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Adam  Bede,  1  vol. 
The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  1  vol. 
Felix  Holt,   and    Theophrastus 
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Scenes    of  Clerical    Life,    Silas 

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Daniel  Deronda,  2  vols. 
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